Born Dead
by Mia Arabella
Summary: After the killing-spree failure, a humilliated Aro Volturi found just what he wanted at the perfect timing; a creature who could give birth to another that could defy both life and death. Amelie Birgminham was born to die, but aren't we all? Post BD.
1. Birth and Release

**Hello, lovely readers. Welcome to my first story on both English and on the Twilight fandom. **

**Initial person to blame for this idea: Kopri**, also my beta, who always bugged me about writing on English. One night I did, and the first chapter was born. I have her to thank. You rock, sweetie.

This story will be concentrated on the Volturi, alternating on one point to the Cullens, but it will have a fair share of both, with the final clash that should have been written on Breaking Dawn. I need some relief on that matter, and don't we all?

**The Volturi**_---awesome characters that I sadly do not own_. 

Post Breaking Dawn

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**Born Dead**

Part I

_The Mother_

The developmental task of the Mother Stage is accepting responsibility.

"I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; she will crush your head and you will strike her heel. To the woman he said: I will greatly increase your pain in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband and he will rule over you."

Genesis 3: 15-17

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Chapter 1

**Birth and Release**

There had been one time, she remembers, that her way of being lead her too far. She had been a wise 10-year-old at the time, even wiser than her brother or any of her classmates. She had been wise enough, indeed, to notice things at home were wrong. She also had been wise enough to ask no questions, then, she would get no lies.

Amelie knew it was wrong to steal.

Her parents told her so, many times, after watching kids at the streets, stealing worthless things. Worthless then. She never had the necessity to steal. Her parents always provided her the best things in life. But after her father died everything went downhill.

That's why she felt the urge to take the thirty euros in one single fluid motion that fell of Mrs. Bouillon's purse the night she helped her to carry her books to her house, just three houses after hers. She knew it was wrong but it did not stop her. In fact, she thinks it pulled her forward. Amelie did not even had enough notion about the proper value of money, but details were mindless.

Mrs. Bouillon, a widow, just like her mother, never said anything about the lost money—the young girl doubted the close minded and half deaf lady would ever find out—even though Amelie had the most bizarre wish to be discovered. She once toyed with the idea of the lady doing fooling her on purpose, and she tried not to think about this, because she did not like being fooled. She still doesn't.

The girl did not give the money to her mother, helping her to pay the bills, a casual lie doing the trick. She was just as selfish back then as she was now. She did not, however, spend it on herself either. She saved it under her bed; the most valuable possession she had, not precisely because of its actual value, but because of what it represented. She had gone too far and she had enjoyed it.

A macabre smile played on her lips as she remembered the incident, innocent back then. Innocent now as she took the first step that lead her to the unfamiliar and cold white room that could have so easily been her death. White rooms, specially modern ones like that one, were and oddity on Volterra. Death wasn't asking for her worthless life this time, though. In fact, death had something more deliciously painful prepared for her.

She knew coveting had _nothing _against murder.

This time, death was taking the purest thing she had inside of her, the last chance at redemption she had. Death was taking her child, and she was going to let her do it.

There had been a young girl talking a rushed Italian through a cell-phone at the clinic. Amelie had always been observant towards her surroundings, but this girl did not pick her interest enough to hold her attention. Amelie took a seat on the hard (_and cheap_) chair, listening vaguely to the conversation the girl was having, while she flipped a flyer that said 'Murder is not the answer'. _Christians_.

When she understood—barely, because Italian had been a pain in her ass just as that baby was since she moved to Italy—a few of the words the weak girl almost whispered, though, she looked her way. The girl barely bordered the edge of being eighteen years old, her entire petite body shivered as she cried. She had frizzy wild hair, its red being more orange than anything. Her face, washed up by constant flowing tears, was full of awfully dark freckles. Her eyes, though, were very pretty, but she was constantly closing them, and Amelie couldn't observe them more closely.

Amelie was tall, statuesque, with beautiful dark hair cascading her back in graceful curls—even though that lately, due to her lack of any beauty products by the medical procedure leaving her absolutely broke, it was more of an unattractive disarray. Amelie and her were completely opposites, because the girl was not pretty or even interesting in the way most people analyzed each other. Instead, she was genuinely scared.

That alone, made her more beautiful than Amelie would ever be.

And even though the majority of men thought Amelie was gorgeous, thoughts that lead to actions and actions that had lead to _this_, she knew she was nothing compared to the cowardly girl. Tears were running down her face even more constantly as the indecision attacked her. Indecision, Amelie decided, was almost as dangerous as temptation. They both clouded your mind, the allure of 'ifs' drowning you into the dark waters of sin, and eventually reached their goal: making you their subject, making you as human as everyone else was.

Amelie knew who she was and who she couldn't pretend to be. Knowledge about herself had smacked her in the face numerous times; she knew she deserved it, so she did not complain. She did not hesitate on her decision either.

Her eyes collided with hers, and the girl's eyes showed off nothing but sorrow.

Her call came to an end, her name passed through Amelie's ears, fading into a lonely echo in the room, and the clinic never knew again of the girl. As Amelie's name was called instead, she took exactly eight graceful strides and entered the doctor's office, thinking and feeling a lot of things. Envy dominated.

Because the girl with the broken eyes had a heart Amelie couldn't't covet and pass as hers.

"_La mamma sta andando guardarla svilupparsi…" Mommy is going to see you grow._

_***********_

She wandered the streets, not really lost, just thinking about everything and nothing, with that same tone of bitter venom that had invaded her heart. She noticed a car that reduced it's speed beside her.

"Perché così sola? Voglia una certa azienda?" A somewhat deep voice asked her. With double meaning, no less.

"Hell would be more pleasing."

Three months had passed since that bump—quite literally, actually—had been out of her life.

And men still wanted to shag her.

She was _almost _bothered by this. Almost, because she had to admit sometimes it _was_ useful. Like that time her Algebra teacher, back when she studied on her born-place, Wiltshire, gave her an A and kindly invited her to his home. Or when the neighbor insisted on buying her clothes. Maybe it would be more accurate to describe how that bastard that almost ruined her life was always a little _too _nice to her, while the only thing he received from her were sarcastic remarks, witty comments and an occasional insult when his praises caught her on a bad day. And bad days were all she had.

Her mother always told her to be polite, and Amelie had never been much of an obedient girl, but when her reflection on that Chanel dress caught her off guard, she had to thank him.

She could almost hear him thanking her back.

When she suppressed a groan as the car driver said something more obscene, he left her alone.

Her Italian had been progressing as she started working on a very much dead café downtown that opened 24/7.

_Was that even called downtown on Volterra?_ She had to admit she was struggling with the lack of noise on the tiny town.

The café was small but not really cozy, and that was probably because she felt out of place everywhere. She still had to get a job and pay for her bills, though. After all, we live to work and worked until death. So she applied to be a waitress—job she was slightly ashamed of—and started working on a little café that only got crowded when she was not around. Not that she complained. On her night-shift she had 30% more chance of getting robbed or killed. Either she could kick the life out of the guy that dared to do the first or being sweetly induced to hell on the second. How she wished she could get her way.

As she ate a French muffin (that_, yes_, she gladly stole) minutes after she arrived at her work, she watched a man enter the café looking in every direction, like he was dazed by the light. Amelie could tell he was filthy, poor, homeless, stinky, and hungry. In some needs too as his eyes fell upon her. She just rolled her eyes and did not bother to be polite.

"Can I help you with something?" Or maybe a '_Do you have enough coins to pay a napkin?'_ would have done the trick. He looked puzzled. _Oh, yeah, Italian._

"Posso aiutarlo con qualcosa?" She flashed him a smile to fool around with his heartbeats and his eyes seemed to widen.

"Mange-ge-rò un coffe e una focaccina." His voice was raspy and scared, Amelie observed. Maybe he had no money. Maybe she had intimidated him. Either way, she was pleased under her frustration.

She looked for the muffin he had asked and put it on the counter, carefully avoiding hand contact, and, as she served the plain coffee, she heard the noise of something that would add more frustration to her overall angry self. Coins. A lot of them.

She sighed. It would have been better if he would have just stolen it. She turned to face him, her smile even more difficult to form than before, and silently cursed him. Hard.

He just smiled sheepishly a toothless grin.

Could whatever-that-was-up-there condemn her to an easier hell if she did a good action? She knew the answer to her own question, but she still refused to take the money, more out of laziness than out of kindness. The man took the money, shoved it on his pocket quite manner-less, took his muffin with his coffee, and exited the café.

_That's right._ No thank you.

She was officially never doing that again, not even out of laziness. Next time she would get a grip and count all of the coins, even the tax.

Because then she remembered people were just as screwed up as she was.

When she decided to concentrate on her hate for the worthless man all night long as a distraction, the door swung back again, the little cliché bells of the door making annoying _'clings'_. She did not look up to see who it was, but it could only be the filthy man with that kind of smell. The café was _too_ small, indeed.

"God bless you."

Flawless English. She did not even bother to take those words seriously. Because even if she did, that man with those words could not have saved her. She could not even save herself. _God_ would not let her.

As minutes went by painfully slow, so did hours. After three more sleep-deprived costumers, her shift ended. She took coffee for the way home; the night was chilly. Putting on her coat, the only coat that she owned, gift from the only bastard she could not stop, she exited the coffee shop, which at that same moment turned off its lights: the sun would come out soon. Her apartment was not far away, so she opted to walk. It would burn the calories of the muffin—and it was not like she was rich enough to have a car, as much as that hurt her ego.

She blamed the coffee about the bitter feel that appeared suddenly on her mouth. When the coffee left her delicate lips and her mouth, because she spit it back and threw it away, the odd smell went through her nose this time. Her nostrils flared. It was awful.

It was death. And she knew how death smelled because she had been in front of it various times.

Amelie was going to pass the smell for a dead cat on a nearby trash can and walk away, because only God knew that the last thing she needed was a real-life scene of a Stephen King's novel, when she heard a gasp that had not left her mouth.

She took the first step of the short stairs that would get her home, almost unwillingly, hesitant to see what made the horrifying noise. It was a bloody corpse, lying unnaturally crooked, molding the stairs perfectly like a rug made out of silk. She couldn't help to notice the blood on the walls was tinted oddly.

And like the curious fool she was, curiosity that would probably be her death later, she got closer and took a quick look. His eyes were widened, his throat sliced. He made no noise for the longest two minutes on Amelie's life.

He had died on pain.

She blinked twice before turning around and hurrying her pace to her home whispering something unintelligible for humans, not for the one killed, but rather the one that committed the murder, who was carefully watching her, because he was not certainly human.

"I hope God blessed _you_."

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**If you are actually reading this, you totally rock my socks and you should leave a review so I can give you a shout out.**

**Also to tell me what you think.**

**Until the next chapter.**

"_Read that. What language is it on?"_

"_Portuguese?"_

"_You are close…"_

"_French?"_

"_Closer…"_

"_England?"_

That's what happens when my family tries to understand what I write. Don't let me suffer.

**-Mia.**


	2. Mortal Race

**Big Epic Failure. Hahahaha. I love my failures. Not as much or near as I love my readers! Specially ones that review. If do you read this, leave a review, even if it says to stop wasting my time and stop writing. Those ones will be even more appreciated. Ok? Ok!**

**Thanks to Kopri for Beta-Reading this big epic failure.**

**_Did I say the Volturi finally came to link all of this together?_**

**_VOLTURI. VOLTURI. VOLTURI. Rules!_**

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Chapter 2

**Mortal Race**

It was a Monday when Amelie realized she had run out of time to send her application yet again to what sure would put the cherry on top to her already hellish life: college. Because, even though her life was beginning to be pointless, she did not want to be a pathetic waitress for the rest of her days. Stealing would be more frequent, turning into the point it would be painfully obvious.

_Her parents wouldn't have approved. _

This only left her with two options. Either she could settle for what life--who was a bitch, just like her--had prepared for her, that was probably to live a common life alone on a foreign country full of everything she despised, or she could just die. And parting from the recent thoughts that had been invading her mind, she just wanted to die on the prettiest way possible. At least, she would make sure she left a decent corpse behind; not that any one would be claiming it.

Because life what's life without purpose? Without someone or even something to live for? Without something pulling you towards the willing to live…? What was the point? The world was as screwed up as it was for her to waste space.

Once, she faintly remembers, that she loved to dance. It had been what she loved the most back when everything was complicated, yet so simple. And she saw things that way. If you wanted to hop on the table and break your mother's china, you just did. If you wanted to sleep in class, you just closed your books and rested your head against them, probably forgetting to pick up the detention slip on the teacher's desk after class ended, which would earn you another one. Many times she did both, and it had been as simple as that. Yet, now she was aware complicated things played bigger roles. Because there always had to be the grey to the black and white, the decision that could cause various effects, the problem that had many ways out, but none that she could embrace.

Well, the gray was all worn out, and the painting of her life had been stained with black all over it, like a black hole on space, like a raven lost on the dark sky. She just needed to shred to pieces the canvas. She would.

The abortion had nothing to do with the way she was living at the moment. Things were all wrong way before that breaking point. She was young and she had potential to be taught on the right way of living--of course, if there was any. It was like life was out to get her. Maybe it was Karma, maybe it was God, it could be all the pointless gods humans believed on, for all she cared, and life still would find a way to condemn her. Her life was condemnation. She had always known it. It was like she was born to show to the world how screwed up it's habitants could really be.

When she was a child, she had thought about these particular matters various times. Sometimes she slightly wondered if God, because she was a weak catholic once, induced into religion by her mother's believes, was punishing her for all the wrong things her parents had done. She only thought it was fair; what possible reason could two people paired by bizarre circumstances have for bringing two children to Hell? To pay for _their _sins, of course. Amelie and Aaron, close brothers, but not quite on both, disliked church and their parents on some extent.

It was later on she discovered the punishment was all hers.

Firm on the decision that she just needed to escape her own hell to one she could be blamed properly, and be punished the same way, she took her purse, and made her stiff legs (not from all the work-outs, but because she was in the need of a car that could drive her to her death) walk out her _home_, a tiny apartment she pay half-way with the money she had stole at the café.

She did not have a very concrete reason for committing suicide, and she did not bother to look for one either. She just felt tired of going against the natural way of things to fall in together and apart.

The drug store was not really close to her home, so she had to take a bus, one of those who often carried many wonder hungry tourists. She really couldn't understand what attractive the little town of Volterra could hold to them. Amelie could let herself admit that the town had an interesting structure, a little too complicated, if you asked her, but not eye-popping. It had no beaches like the Bahamas, or hiking places like Perú, not even chapels were you could get married on your own car by an Elvis. If you asked her what had been the reason she moved from London to that place, she wouldn't give you a speech on how it's history had been impossible to ignore. She would just answer you with a shrug, telling you it looked like a good place to die.

How little she knew.

It was when she arrived at the lonely bus stop at ungodly hours, that she perceived something. Not in the place she was in, but on herself. Her heart accelerated it's heart beats, and it was almost difficult to breath properly. Perhaps, that was how it felt to die_, to vanish._

She sat on the little bench, tripping ungracefully at one of the marbles on the street, and put her head between her legs. It was like her senses were betraying her, asking her for something in return of what they had given her: too much perception. Her hands started to get colder than normal and her forehead, was almost 5 degrees above normal temperature, an oddity. She could almost tremble if she wasn't so determined to be _strong_, even though she was alone. She was keeping the façade to herself and she did not feel well at all.

It was a cold night, not because of the atmosphere, but because of the wind. Her long dark hair, so black sometimes it could be passed as blue on the right shade of light, played with it, to the point that it got from a put together ponytail, to a wild mane in seconds. She could not care less, which was strange. Amelie did not notice that the bus was coming until she heard it's brake noise and the door open, an action really un-Amelie-esque. She looked up a little too quickly; now she was mildly disoriented.

What was wrong with her?

"_State andando ottenere dentro?" _The bus driver asked her, and she could tell he was half-asleep. She really couldn't blame him; she must have been a little asleep herself.

_Oh, get a grip._

She nodded, barely standing up and entering the bus, paying the bus driver all she had left, leaving just enough to buy at least four bottles of sleeping pills. Amelie sighed and proceeded to observe her surroundings. _Cutting wrists would have been so much simpler… _

The bus was almost empty, apart from a father and her daughter on the back of the bus. The thing was, Amelie noted, that they did not look related. In fact, they did not look like human beings at all.

And they were beautiful.

In the half-second that she got to look at them without doing so being rude, she took in their faces. They were both extremely pale, to the point where it wasn't or looked healthy. They also had a strange glow surrounding them, the faint light of the bus hitting them in all the right places. Both pairs of strange colored eyes, that went perfectly with those lovely faces, were not staring at anything at all. And both of them wore dark-colored cloaks, making them look like they were mourning, perhaps even older. But just one of them acknowledged her, the man, smiling briefly at her.

She could have easily shivered if she wasn't so inclined to die.

Amelie just took her seat, far from the strange pair, but not quite. Curiosity would be the death of her.

Even though the drug store was not close, it wasn't really far either; it was only a matter of time before she could forget about those puzzling people, shoving them into the back of her mind, mind that would soon be lacking thoughts. She proceeded to look through the window--not at their painfully beautiful reflection, she was trying to convince herself--the drug store, preparing herself to leave the bus, gathering the only things she had. She was not prepared though, that they would leave at the same place as her. And that would be about the time were she cursed.

Because only God would be kind enough to send thugs to do the job.

As Amelie left the bus and started walking, the beautiful strangers right behind her, she turned to them with the most nonchalant attitude she could pull off after deciding she was committing suicide.

"If you are going to rob me, I want to inform you I'm--_sadly_--broke. If you want to kill me, I was about to do your job easy. So, get lost!"

She doubted they could understand every word she said, the heavy English accent present on every rushed word, but Amelie still turned on her heels, possibly caring less, probably because her perceptive mind had caught that they weren't normal, that the situation was out of her hands, that they were dangerous.

"You are so lucky I haven't killed you yet. Your annoyance is mind boggling." She was about to turn around to respond to that when she realized the little girl, previously some good twelve feet behind her, was right in front of her. She wasn't surprised when her prey's eyes widened.

"Behave, Jane." The man spoke, and even though he almost growled, Amelie could tell there was no genuine interest for his orders to be fulfilled involved. Both of them talked flawlessly spoken English.

Jane was such a common name for such a beautiful face.

"The master would be furious; that's the only thing stopping me." Jane blocked her way, her gorgeous black eyes irradiating fury.

Amelie couldn't be more irritated, her previous aches coming back with more force than before, just a slight tint of instinctual fear coloring her next words.

"Look, I'm not really patient with children. I even killed my own. So, if you please, move your annoying little body and get out of my way." She was about to brush off the little girl with a force that could have easily knocked out any children, but not her, because she was no ordinary child. When her body collided with hers, Amelie almost cried on pain.

"I'm afraid you are not going anywhere." This time, the man spoke, and she could sense that, even though he was the adult, the child in front of her had the authority.

"The master said you would put resistance. I understand now. You are a stubborn bitch."

Well, that was the only nice thing she had said so far. It still enraged her that those disturbing persons were annulling her efforts of suicide.

"You are getting on my nerves, little girl. Go and find your mom on another woman; you got the wrong one."

But then again, what possible creature could put up with such a bitch for daughter? Then she remembered, her own mom could.

Suddenly, as fleeting as an intake of a breath, from the back of her mind she felt numbness: starting from the back of her head, passing through her heart and ending at her fingertips. But as fast as the numbness invaded her whole body, it became excruciating pain.

It was like her heart ached. _And it did. _

Because she had difficulty breathing, and her heart was trying to do everything on his power to maintain its pulse. It was like a paper, wrenching until no more wrinkles could be done, but it also was more powerful than any drug, because the stillness she experienced beforehand had paralyzed her whole body. Her vision clouded, and she couldn't stand anymore; her knees gave up to the amount of pressure. It was like her body suddenly weighted too much for her to even stand; a pressure beyond belief was keeping her smashed to the floor.

It was horrible and she understood nothing of it. She had never felt more powerless.

"Who… are… you…!?" She managed to ask between her gritted teeth and ragged breaths.

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

"That's enough, Jane." The man, who was now standing besides Jane, told her with a bored tone.

Jane just gave her a last macabre smile before stopping her torture. Just like the stubborn child she was, satisfied at getting her whim. She would get to use the human as a rag doll later anyway.

Amelie felt something cold grab her waist, and the cold felt _good_, almost natural on her skin. It took her a moment to realize the pain was gone, and that she was being held by the male stranger.

And like he was answering her silent question, reminding her greatly of the time she received a DUI, he spoke with caution.

"I'm Demetri. You are been taken to the Volturi by request. I think you might want to know a vampire is talking to you, so if you do anything sudden, I might crush your skull or drink you dry."

She did not even try to put resistance; his arms were too strong, and her mind was too uncoordinated to even form a proper command. Multiple thoughts, all fatalistic, attacked her at once. This must have been a joke; she wanted desperately to believe this _was _a joke. But her perceptive senses told her otherwise and for the first time in years, since that night her father died of a stroke, she did not want to believe them.

"It's surrender or die, then…?" She almost choked on her own whisper, comprehending it all too soon, thoughts jumbled on her brain, her voice stuck on her throat.

"I'm glad to know our new member is a smart girl." She could hear the disgusting smile on his voice.

Jane couldn't contain her scowls all the way back to the tower.

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**Don't you just love Demetri and Jane? I know I do.**

**Next up on the Volturi checklist: Felix, Aro, Caius and Marcus.**

**Review. Tell me it rocks. Tell me it sucks. Bah, you can even flame this story! Writers need encouragement! It's sad that serious stories don't get the same love others get. :(**

**-Maly.**


	3. Envision My Heartbeats

**I won't say I'm not dissappointed at the lack of reviews for this story, but I'm going to give myself a big I told you so. I know new characters are not easy to relate to, but it's sad readers don't give my story a shot. It's the Volturi, people! Anyway, I'll keep posting what I have up until now. I'm thinking I might even end the story just for my pleasure. **

**If you are indeed hooked on the story, let me tell you the Cullens sneaked in it, and so did Aro. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 3

**Envision My Heartbeats**

Even though Edward talked to his father often, he had been a little _too _willing this time to talk to Carlisle when he asked to. Bella noticed, so did Alice. Alice who apparently, and probably certainly, knew what they were going to talk about. It had been earlier on the same day when she had seen the vision.

The Volturi were taking interest on the Cullen's again, which was not a good thing.

The reason? She still wasn't really sure. Alice had not been concentrating on them either, because the only thing she could concentrate on lately was Jasper's growing thirst; it had beginning to be incontrollable since the moment he killed four hikers at the last place they had moved. She knew he tried, God he did, but it still wasn't enough. He despised himself for doing so poorly, while a still newborn Bella did so much better than him. _Pathetic_.

And because everything to Jasper, except the pure love he held for his dear Alice, could be seen like war, he had the intention of resisting his opponent: himself, the more wicked and distortional version, who was still as tangible as his ability to feel the pity that overtook his family when he _slipped_. But he couldn't blame them; after all, they wanted the best for him. Remembering those feelings as if he was feeling them himself--he could, he did--he felt human again, because he felt sick; like he had a disease that could potentially ruin his life with a sudden snap, as fast as a blink of an eye. He felt sick too, because everyone took care of him while he took care of nobody. He couldn't specially stand the disappointment in Alice's eyes, not at him but at her own failure, as much as she tried to hide it from him. She knew how it hurt, but so did him.

Sometimes Alice felt guilty, forcing him to live the life he clearly, but so secretly, despised. And he could sense it. She pursued what she thought it was best for both of them; living with people that loved them greatly, people they couldn't hurt, that understood them because they _were _like them, living without the guilt of embracing what they were brought.

The vision of the Volturi had appeared on her mind because they were coming closer to what they wanted, and Alice was only tuned to the security of her family, apart from Jasper's.

She wasn't surprised when she saw Bella, without her child, appearing on her doorstep, who was not far away from Carlisle's office.

"I'm worried." That translated to a _'Is there something I should know?'_. She spoke in a hushed tone, and not Carlisle, who was at his office waiting for Edward, or Rosalie, who was cradling childishly Renesmee while Emmett fought for her attention, could have heard her.

"You don't have to be yet." Alice knew better than to alarm her, but Bella still needed to know the truth. "Apparently, Carlisle received a letter from Aro."

Alice heard Bella's intake of an unnecessary breath, jumping to conclusions. It wasn't like the letter could say _'We are coming to kill you. Be_ _prepared.'—_but roughly translated, it was probably exactly what it meant.

Bella, who made silence to hear their conversation, was greatly disappointed to only listen fleeting moments of Edward's scribbled words when he had met with Carlisle. They were having one of those silent conversations, and that bothered both women greatly. After several minutes, Alice gave up, an out of character thing for her to do; the situation with Jasper had her in such state, she was beginning to lose herself on hopes of saving him.

Bella got frustrated and left her room; not moments later Alice had started counting absentmindedly the turns she made on the corridor, finding Bella's impatience both understandable and annoying. She concentrated instead on the noises _he _made far away into the woods as she drifted on a reverie, but their kind were easily distracted: she received a vision. And even though she was not looking for it, she received exactly what she wanted to see.

_When the conversation Edward and Carlisle were having found it's climax, Carlisle worries found a voice._

"_I received this yesterday."_

_It was a letter. A really distinct letter, Alice could add. The paper was crème colored, almost brown, like it was rusty and old, and differing from Alice's past vision, the red seal was now broken._

_Edward understood from Carlisle's train of thought who had sent it. He took it between his long, graceful fingers, as he read the note. _

"_I assume you acknowledge their insistence on this human is suspicious?"_

_Carlisle responded him with thoughts only, and this bothered Alice, to the point it almost broke her vision. Even though she had conversations like this with Edward--and she had to admit, they were really useful--it was not fair when doing so left a secret the security of the family; everyone had a right to know._

"_After all, if she does not has any great power, what could they obtain from her?" Edward nodded, understanding the situation. _

Her vision got more fuzzy, like she was holding back tears, but she tried to push her limits a little further. Her visions usually were too quick, and when everyone thought she was trying to shake it off from her mind, she was doing the exact opposite; trying to collect her visions and her thoughts, connecting them in some way. And when she couldn't, she got frustrated, which led her to seek them. Seeking visions always left a bitter taste on her mouth.

"_What I'm most afraid is of all of thee." Edward raised an eyebrow, because Carlisle was more nervous than what he could read. When he started talking the way he used to do so many years ago, even before he was changed, things were genuinely wrong. "If they have shown signs of life, they will want to know about Nessie…Her powers and those of the family…"_

As fast as it came, it was gone. She cursed under her breath.

***********

Since the first moment Amelie saw where they were headed—a thing she was proud of, because it was really dark—she knew she was going to be walking on eggshells. Broken eggshells that could hurt her heel and end her life, so quickly indeed, she doubted she could form a proper scream. She also highly doubted someone would hear her.

Because one thing is to wish for death, and another is to see it coming.

So as she was sitting on a cold dark room hours after, with cobblestone floor and walls that left little lights of the sun enter faintly in between, she wondered about the possible meanings _'by request' _could have while resting her head to the wall. She was not entirely book smart at all—smoking cigarettes on the school backyard consumes your lungs _and _your time—but life had taught her what she needed to know.

And _'by request' _meant she was screwed up.

As she waited sitting in the room that lacked doors and windows, she was trying to remember any harm she had done that could possibly throw nature out of balance, to the point it would be worth meeting the supernatural. . Because, what could vampires possibly want from her other than wanting her lungs to be consumed by this pitiful smell? If they wanted to suck her blood, they had waited too much. Maybe she could suicide after all; she could hit her head with the wall savagely until she lost conscience, causing an internal bleeding, drifting into a painful sleep. She gave up on the idea when she imagined the pain--and her ugly dead face.

Her thoughts were interrupted with a rather loud thud. From the corner of her eye, she saw a faint shade coming down the ceiling, almost too fast, making a softer thud this time. _The ceiling_. She almost snorted at her own stupidity; hadn't she seen enough movies?

She could smell the sickly sweet scent vampires had, wondering slightly if they had the right to smell so good and…_floral_. She turned her head towards the creature in the room, half expecting to see Jane looking for her so she could torture her life out of her body. Instead she found a really tall man, looking at her with a playful grin, bordering the line of dangerous. Thanks to the little sunlight that escaped through the marble walls, she could see he was huge. He passed a hand through his hair, which was a failed attempt of flirting, because he almost had none. Amelie just rolled her eyes. The fact that, just like Jane and Demitri, she could tell he was beautiful, was also bothering her.

Beauty was becoming boring.

"Glad to know you are still alive, pretty one." The first part of the comment was half-heartedly; he made no effort into hiding it. She just rolled her eyes again, gesture that was becoming rather painful in the dark. Either the news spread fast or she was really famous amongst vampires already. In both ways, the feeling was not welcoming.

"Follow me, human." Raspy as dust, but inviting as a lullaby, a cold voice echoed in the room. Amelie, with her dull human senses, had not felt another presence in the room. He was lurking in the shadows, and she wondered if _he _was the one God had assigned to kill her. It felt odd and extremely vulnerable to be around so much people that could potentially snatch her life away before she could even know it herself.

She seemed to have forgotten someone spoke: the big, burly vampire swept her off her awkward sitting position with a force that could have easily broken one of her bones. She thought he did, feeling a rather unnatural pain on her back; either it was going to leave a bruise as big as the man who had now put her on safe ground, as safe as she could be, or he left her paralytic for life.

Fatalism comes when you are approaching a possible death.

They exited the cold room from a door that blended excellently with the cobbled walls, in a way no human could see it. This door, rather small, took them to a long corridor that was elegantly decorated, with dark colored carpet and matching walls. Only faint lights, who seemed to be clinging in vane to life, illuminated the dark wooden doors. She noted the door that belonged to the room she had just gotten out from was also made from dark wood, with fine details that resembled the one's in churches. But hadn't she seen the same door cobbled from inside?

Leaving pointless questions behind, and worrying about things like her life, she made her way through the dark corridors, following the man with the chalky voice and dark cloak. The bigger one, who was behind her, was getting on her last nerve; he was poking her hurting back slightly every now and then, and what seemed like a light touch, felt like poisonous bites from a wild animal. She got a feeling he liked to play with his food.

They arrived at a room that had no windows like the previous one, but it was not cobbled, and it was considerably warmer, maybe nicer. Of course, as nice as a death place could be.

Two men stood tall, their backs slightly hunched, but Amelie could not be entirely sure; apparently, cloaks were fashion. She could not see their faces because they were lost on the darkness of their cloaks. She could, however, note a faint illumination coming out from their faces should be. Right behind one of them, there was a petite pretty woman, so close she could easily whisper something on his ear. Her hood was down, and her face was extremely pale, a characteristic--she noted--all vampires had, and it was also very beautiful. Not as beautiful as Jane's, but still higher than average.

Beside them, there was Jane herself, her hood also down, with a grin that Amelie thought about knocking out as soon as she saw her, and with a child that looked really similar to her right besides her. The boy's pale face was indifferent, like a child watching even younger children struggle with something he had already managed to accomplish. And these kids, as young as they seemed, probably doubled her age. There were also blurry dark figures behind these ones, but she could not make out their faces: they seemed to be hidden in their own dark cloaks.

"Look who we finally have here! Isn't she lovely, Caius!?"

Caius, who ever that was, seemed to ignore one of the two men talking, but he was not bothered by this—she could almost tell this happened frequently. He seemed greatly engrossed on thought, perhaps admiring her? She couldn't tell. From the corner of her eye, she saw the man with the dark cloak who had gotten her out of the cobbled room join the other two at their seats.

"But do not repair to feel at home, my child! You don't have reasons to be afraid; we intend no harm."

There was something about the vampire speaking, that seemed extremely odd. Besides being almost happy to see her, which was ridiculous, because she had no idea who he was, in his voice ringed cheery authority_. Ugh. Way too cheery. _Maybe he knew _her._

"I'm more overwhelmed than anything." She dared to speak directly at him, and Jane seemed almost offended by it.

"Of course she did." Aro ignored her.

"You must be tired. I deeply regret not approaching you in a more polite way. You see, we like things done—sometimes roughly, but done no less…" She could feel Felix getting closer to her. "…and humans are so breakable, it's almost a shame." Because Amelie valued her life, now anyway, she stopped the snort half-way.

"We don't want to break _you_, though."

The words did not stop at her mind, clear disbelief coloring them.

"You don't?"

"Oh no!" He seemed greatly offended, almost innocent, like he had been accused of breaking the cookie jar. "How can you even suggest that, my dear!?"

Even though it was a rhetorical question, Amelie still answered in the most impolite way, not even bothering to sweeten it to keep her heart where it belonged.

"Well, I don't know any of you to start with. And I'm human; you eat my kind." Her dry mocking sarcasm sobered his mood.

"We protect our city, Amelie. The blood spilled is a little price your kind has to pay for saving others of their own. Little, if you ask me. But there are still people like you that don't value the sacrifice both kinds make for you, lucky survivors that go and attempt quitting their lives just because…" His thought trailed off, his emotion too heavily false for him to continue.

"We are not the ones exterminating your kind. You are, and all of you don't even realize it." Aro added.

It made sense if you actually took the time to think like a vampire. It lifted the weight of killing for survival off their shoulders—not really heavy to begin with. Empathy had always been an Amelie's trait; thing was, she did little with it. After several seconds that seemed never ending, he spoke again.

"I'm not going to kill you. Not if you behave, not if we have to. Let's hope we don't, don't you agree?" His grim tone raised the dark hair on her spine, and as quick as she saw the glint of a murderer on his eyes, it went away. Regaining the vivid voice he possessed, she thought, to convince her prey, he continued the conversation as if there had not been any interruptions.

"But as I was telling you before you so rudely interrupted, it would be a tragedy for us to lose someone so special as yourself. We see so much potential in you, it would be blatantly stupid of us not to have you in our little association."

_Lie_.

Her thoughts stopped midway, and she was almost jarred by the revelation. _Vampire ask permission for converting humans…? _They wanted her to leave humanity behind, to become one of them? What possible reason could they have? She could accept she was had a strong temperament, and she was really perceptive, but those traits couldn't possibly win her an immortal life as a powerful vampire. She doubted highly she would be powerful at all; with her ability to screw everything up, she wondered greatly what in the world they wanted from her.

That's how she came to the conclusion they wanted something from her a regular vampire couldn't give, and it wasn't like she knew all about them, because she had known of their existence for some rough five hours, but her curious nature would be her death. Always had, always would.

"Will you join us?"

And it was not like they were going to let her go back to her life like nothing happened at all.

It was death or die.

She made sure she voiced she was induced into their plans, with just a little tad of curiosity strong enough to allure her towards them, that forced her into them without a possible say that could save her and make her thank God for a second chance at life.

Well, God had decided she deserved no second chances.

"I have no other option, do I?" She just was stating the obvious, accepting his request in a way that bothered every member of the ancient coven; the lack of respect was as clear as her future.

"I'm Aro Volturi. Welcome to the _family_." His grim smile, she realized, was even scarier than his grim tone.

_For her, there was no second chances on life._

Aro had proceeded to take her hand on his to _kiss _it and she, almost unwillingly, still thinking about the chances the vampire had of eating it instead of leaving a peck with lips that had flavored blood countless times, gave in and obeyed him. No one can blame her; she did not know Aro's gift.

_And there had never been second chances in death either._

* * *

**Aro is so gansta'. Haha.**

**By the way, because I have to tell someone, the**_New Moon Sneak Peak_ **of Bella running through Volterra to save Edward? Utterly awesome. Volterra just rocks, even if the people in the cloaks don't look quite realistic. Because really, we have something called diversity-or more like short time memories that can't remember to buy a cloak that might look similar... Doesn't the crew think there might be broke people on Volterra that couldn't afford them or something? I would have gone with a white one. Just to stand out.** _Or maybe to look like Randalf._

**Anyway, review, if you want. Even if it is to tell me how silly Edward looked while he followed Bella everywhere. **

**Review. Review. Review. Review.** **And cookies for everybody (I know I won't be going broke by buying cookies. )**

**Next Chapter: Aro's brilliant plan. Also, some Heidi thrown in there.**

**-Mia.**


	4. The Mother of My Children

**Hi! A new chapter! **

**No bugging about reviews in this one, because if it's meant to be, they will come!**

**So, on to the chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 4

**The Mother of My Children**

Even though she could sense Aro had great power and Amelie was oblivious to his gift, it was still careless of her to give him her hand. For all she knew, she could have been handicapped this very day.

Aro did not want her blood; to him, it was as common as any other. But Aro did not want her powers either, because to him, she had none.

And ever since he saw the phenomenon Renesmee Cullen was, he knew he had to have her on his coven.

Or at least something like her. Something better, perhaps.

The creature that had been fatefully created by nature, making an unbreakable bond between human and vampire kind, just like her predecessors, held a deep fascination to him. He, in all of his years of _life, _had not seen such thing.

The fact that she had a special power was a really delightful plus.

And when he, painfully humiliating, lost the battle against killing that form of life--because if he did not have her, _no one _should either--and all of the vampires and shape shifters that protected the young wonder, it left him almost depressed.

Almost, because he would get his way eventually. He knew he always did.

That's when he started the search for the perfect mother. Looking through few human women he had caught an eye on was easy. Actually finding the perfect one was rather harder. She had to be healthy and beautiful. That much he knew. Marcus, who had oddly agreed to his plans, helped him find the damned one, along with Demetri, who would seek for her oblivious to the reasoning.

He had found healthy, but not beautiful and he had also found beautiful, but not healthy. Amelie fitted the latter category. She damned herself attempting to suicide, because that was the last criteria: she needed to be willing to die in order to suffer the month long torture. Aro was vaguely aware she had had an abortion not too long ago, which slimmed his chances of getting what he wanted, but if conceiving was not possible, there was always a second best.

That was the least of his problems, disposing the mother.

The moment his thin chalky lips graced her ivory skin, he could see her thoughts. And he was almost disappointed this was possible; he had the most childish of hopes she would get to be different. Very simple, very colorful, very vivid thoughts and images. Her childhood. It surprised her slightly that her mind went dizzy for a moment, and then Aro felt nothing.

He saw nothing.

And the fascination began.

Aro had always been confident on his powers, and only twice he had been disappointed by his gift not working on others. The first one had been decades ago, when Lloyd, a vampire that was now dead--at his hand, he might proudly add--had blocked his every thought from him. This intrigued him. Later he discovered through Eleazar he was a shield. He misses Eleazar as he remembers him.

Then there was Bella, the fragile human Carlisle's talented son Edward had chosen as mate, also Renesmee's mother, blocking him completely. And not only could she shield herself, but she could also shield others, gift she later discovered. _Lovely_.

But what happened with Amelie puzzled him. She was not a shield, even though that would have turn out exquisitely. If he wanted to defeat the Olympic Coven--just for example, _of course_--he would've had an equal.

What he did not know was that her gift had backfired with his, just as his plans for her to bare a half vampire child shattered.

This did not bothered him. He had lost a plan, but gained a coven member. He could later ruin some other woman's life on war's behalf, he decided.

When her eyes locked with his and she, slightly taken a back by their burgundy color, withdrew her hand, Aro could tell she had experienced something she wasn't supposed to. She made her best to hide it and, if Aro hadn't been lying for centuries, he could almost been fooled. He still left her go to her new room, one of the many useless bedrooms the castle had, guided by Felix and Demetri.

"I wonder, my dear Chelsea, if her loyalty is trustworthy."

"Yes, Master. She has no other option." Her tone was monotonous from behind him, stating what Amelie already had.

"That's what I thought. You can go to your duties." The Guard knew it meant them, and not the real Volturi, even Renata, Aro's constant protection left, but not too far away, as her master had taught her. Caius and Marcus stay locked in place, almost out of stiffness. Aro opted for a more casual way to discuss the human's demise.

"Well, gentlemen, change of plans." Caius almost grunted.

"I wonder when were you planning on telling us your plans in the first place." His tone was bored but stern, as usual.

"After you could not stop me, of course. Marcus had already agreed to it. Besides, you do know how Athenodora gets when I tell you one of my brilliant plans. The woman can't stand your constant scheming."

"And your point is…?"

"My point is we have found something extraordinary on this girl! She will be such an addition to our coven, we will be unstoppable. More than before…"

"And your point is…!?"

"I couldn't read her thoughts. Not after she took them away from me."

Marcus mind worked millions of ideas on a single second, voicing his thoughts for the first time. "I'm sorry?"

"I _think _she did. Her mind held nothing unusual, until I saw a significant event on her childhood, and then it stopped. _Niente!_ It was like she had died! But that wouldn't be possible at all, zombies make their dreadful appearances on the South of America…"Aro was trailing off, as he most of the times did, to discuss the wonders with the only one who was willing to understand them, himself.

"And how are you so sure she stole your gift?"

"She saw an extent of his thoughts. That much was clear. The slight changes on her pupils gave her away, now that I think about it." Marcus answered this time, seeming to have his mind elsewhere, thinking about what she could have seen. Aro rolled his eyes before agreeing with him.

"Humans are so predictable indeed…" Aro sounded like he pitied them. _Ridiculous_.

"I shall ask, do you still have your gift?"

Even though Aro was brilliant, he hadn't thought about that, and when Caius asked him so, he almost wished he didn't. If she still had his gift, Jane could torture her with concrete reasons. Aro had a soft spot for giving Jane what she wanted, and he knew how displeased she was for the new arrival. Besides, to him, torture screams were mermaids on those ships he used to see and draw centuries ago. Sweet oblivion to death.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

Aro took Caius' hand. He had fed last.

There were many failures before you actually reached perfection. Aro, disappointed again that he had his gift intact, made his way to the feeding room, gracing Heidi in the process; Caius' thoughts had made him thirsty.

***********

Her room was spacious. Vampires had good taste, she would give them that. But it was also really dusty, and she had sneezed at least eight times already.

_Great way to keep a human healthy._

When she arrived at the room, the first thing she did was stumble her way to its bed and rest with eyes wide open. Images swirled in her head, the echoes of them more powerful than the actual monochromatic image. Blood. A lot of blood. Nameless faces covered in it, thoughts of glory created by the euphoria it brought, and the different shades of the liquid. Had she just witnessed a vision of the future…?

She couldn't help it; the visions of the dead man she had seen days earlier had appeared on her mind once again, brought by all the blood her mind had just witnessed. She also couldn't help to make the comparison of the way all of that people had died and on how the her toothless acquaintance had. Scarred by the throat, some made bare pieces of what they once where…

The only thing more alert than her mind were her eyes, who observed her surrounding's every detail. The four post burgundy bed, thing she could see the most, was made of dark wood, the cobbled floor covered by a matching carpet. She shifted her position, moving her head slightly so she could appreciate the room.

It had no natural light, but it had a window. The curtains were a dark crimson, almost too dark, like the cloaks the coven used. They were the only thing that did not match with the room. For some unexplainable reason, the continuous darkness bothered her; she dragged her tired body to the window, opening the curtains and getting disappointed at the lack of sunlight; not because there was _no _sunlight, because the sun should have been coming out by that time, but because the window had been closed by key--an odd thing these days--and the little doors it was made of gave no sunlight away. Defeated, she turned to observe the room.

The dim light could only give so much away, but she saw a few things scattered on the floor she had not noticed before. A bunch of shoes, and dark clothes, she realized, as she got closer. They were not her clothes, she also realized, because those ones had a distinct smell. Vampire clothe. And really pretty vampire clothe, she would add. She was a lady, so she did not whistle. Her mom had taught her so. _Pft_. She did, however, make an inventory of everything.

_A gorgeous pair of Gucci boots size nine. Do they even make these on this part of Italy…? Shame. Too big. I can make them work, anyway. A size 2 Dolce and Gabanna sober dress. A keeper. Maybe my hips won't fit… Bloody hell! What is _this_!?_

Her hand moved towards the object without even processing it first. A velvety box caught her eye. It was blue and really tiny. Tiny things were always full of surprises and she loved surprises. It was a shame she discovered things before she could get surprised. Without thinking it twice, and feeling it a little too light, she opened it. It was empty.

Well, _that _had been a surprise.

"Looking for this?" Amelie had vaguely heard the door opening.

On the far corner of the room stood Heidi, the stunning vampire who she had met minutes ago when Demetri and Felix guided her to her room. She did not have the traditional cloak, but she was entirely covered up by normal and regular human clothes that fitted her beautifully; her long legs had maroon stockings, her eyes were colored by a dark blue, color she had passed for black when she met her.

She slightly wondered about this when her attention flickered to the dangling object she had swinging between her fingers. So it had been a bracelet. A diamond bracelet, because she could not name the periodic table, but she could tell you how precious a jewel was. Amelie did not know what she was looking for in the first place…but that was _very pretty_.

"Not really. But that _is _kind of gorgeous." And like if Amelie had complimented her, she thanked her with the oddest of prides.

"Thank you." Because Amelie had been thinking she wanted perfect pearly white teeth like hers, it took her half a moment to realize she had a smug face. "A man I drank gave it to me."

Amelie could only shrug in response. The images that had been early in her head hit her again with more force than before. She would have to get used to it; Heidi was watching her carefully.

"He must have been crazy about you, then."

"Yes. They all are." Heidi just half-laughed, blinking through her long lashes, like she was remembering her achievement, and for a moment, Amelie noted her ancient stare. Then her eyes were vivid stones again. "And some day you'll be just like me. If you survive, of course, which I'm highly doubting."

"You are not the only one, then. But don't worry, you will have that Dolce and Gabanna dress on your bony ass back faster than I can say '_You are a bitch_.'" Vampires were getting to her. She had been recently suspecting it was their purpose.

There was a subtle silence, which Heidi took to smile even more smugly than before.

"You think you are _so _smart…how mistaken you are, darling." mockingly, Heidi said. She had not been bothered at the slightest. Her accent, Amelie realized, was as strange as her purpose for being in her room. Which made her remember…

"Why are you here, again…?"

"I had to eat something. Master Aro is feeding, but we are not allowed to feed with them."

Amelie wondered about _them_…Discarding the first statement, she asked, "You are not? Why?" Streaming thoughts, none of them too gentle, graced Amelie's mind.

"House rules, ignorant." If Heidi did not knew better, she would have said too much. And her master knew everything. In the castle, no one had privacy; going against the law, and thinking with different ideals than Aro was committing suicide. And even though The Volturi—the real ones—claimed being part of the powerful coven was choice, the choice made you strained, torn on the decision about wandering alone with liberty or be subject to an eternity to power on others. To rule or to be ruled over. Because even on liberty, you were under _their _rules of the sick game they played.

She thinks Heidi knows what she's thinking. Maybe she read minds, maybe she knows by experience, perhaps by routine, but all Amelie can think about it's the power Aro has on all of them, on all of the Volturi members she had met. Jane, Demetri, Felix, Heidi…they all followed his orders without another say, even if it meant to endanger their own lives. She could understand slightly Jane's motives to be part of the coven; she herself had always been searching for approval and acceptation on her childhood, not that she succeeded. But could the thirst to power over others be enough for them to humiliate themselves? Amelie could only begin to vaguely understand their choice. Because to her, if you were alive and out of the ruling of this…_deathly chain _the Volturi had formed, what else mattered? But then again, living hadn't really worked for her...

Her story was rather different; she was obligated to stay. She understood, also, that she would be _made _to stay. But until then, she could do nothing.

To Amelie, Aro's doings were disgusting. Absolutely clever, but disgusting, which made them brilliant. And she couldn't wait for them to crack under his servants.

Heidi, with eyes that were not stony anymore, but carefully disoriented, proceeded to leave.

"I lost my appetite. Keep it. I have tons." Throwing the bracelet to the human at the floor, who had beginning to move her feet impatiently, she left as gracefully as she had come.

The room's temperature was not adequate for a human to be comfortable in. It was too hot; her long hair was beginning to stick on the nape of her neck. Wondering about the sanity of the blood drinkers, and asking herself about how much of hers would she keep at the end of _this_, she picked the bracelet from the few feet Heidi had thrown it.

She wouldn't have done it, but they were diamonds. And people said they had pride, but she accepted that on this circumstances, she had none for them all. The jewel piece seemed modern: white gold, princess cut diamonds. She had to admit she was waiting for it to be a hundred years old, at least.

Trying the bracelet on, she walked towards the mirror in the vanity, three long rectangular mirrors with golden edges that turned into one, _is that gold…? _

_Where did vampires work to have all of this? _Maybe they used _her _method.

Her face greeted her, and she was momentarily distracted. Her hair was damp on the roots—it was really hot, and she despised sweating—her charcoal eyes slightly bigger, with fading violet circles under them from the lack of sleep. It was no secret she was a mess. She pushed her hair out of her face and admired the bracelet when she caught the spark it had on the mirror. It looked good, but it wasn't perfect. She decided she needed a necklace and not a bracelet that smelled like sex.

She threw the bracelet on the pile of clothes on the floor, trying to open the door, only to find out Heidi had locked it.

Taking one of the expensive blouses Heidi had given her—against her will, she was sure—she wiped the sweat of her forehead. Amelie no longer suspected vampires needed to follow orders about bothering the crap out of her; it was their own form of entertainment.

* * *

**So, I'm going to party tommorrow! Can I hear a holla!? Haha.**

**Aro's purpose is finally revealed, and crashed. It actually wasn't that much of an action chapter, but expect some answers in the next one! At least from Chelsea...**

**If anyone read this, thank you. Sincerely, thank you.**

**-Mia.**


	5. Eating Habits

**I've been terribly sick lately, which has slowed down the writing process. I am prepared for the "expect the unexpected" chaos that is my life, though, which is why I have three chapters done and another half-way.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my reviewer ImaginationSation. She deserves some recognition for making me feel hopeful: at least someone is reading my work—which makes me pretty damn happy!**

Thanks to **Kopri**, who beta-read this, and who has been awfully absent on my life. L

**You are not rocking lately, Koprs!**

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Chapter 5

**Eating Habits**

The thirst was beginning to be draining. Her thoughts were wild, going from how many spiders the dusty ceiling must've had, to debating the reasons why humans had twenty fingers. Humans _and _vampires, she corrected herself using the her new knowledge. The soft popping noises she was making were getting more monotonous as the hours passed by….

_Pop! _Amelie wondered about how café must have been holding up without her. _Definitely better_, she thinks with a smile on her lips, that soon becomes bitter. They don't need her and no one ever has.

_Pop! _She thinks about her family. She does not remember them properly, even though their silence is carved on her mind, and would be forever. Their every lost '_I love you_', every evident '_I hate you_'.

_Pop! _Then she thought about her child and the pattern skipped a beat.

_Pop! Pop! _The heavy door swung open, with a swoosh sound she mildly enjoyed.

"Well, it was about blimey time!"

She half expected to see Demetri, if she was honest. Besides the fact that she finds him attractive, a nature of evident attraction surrounds her. There's also the simple yet so complex fact; _she gets her way_. She got a slightly short female vampire instead, shorter than her, that had her hood down showing off caramel hair that Amelie instantaneously envied; she had always liked light hair. Her eyes were a lighter crimson than Heidi's were, a dry burgundy that somehow went perfect with her rare face.

"Get up, human, we are going out." Her tone was diligent, and Amelie couldn't be anymore relieved. She proceeded to introduce herself. "I'm Chelsea."

"You can be Jesus for all I care; you better buy me some grub." Her tone was as monotonous as the sounds she made.

***********

Amelie once hated the sunlight. It made her sweat, it left her blind, and it toasted her skin, which gave her a flamingo pink color instead of a light bronze like it did to normal people. She had never been more happy to see the sun, though, even if the rays were as weak as they were. And she would probably never, she thinks, see it again, if she's becoming a vampire. Chelsea was walking along with her, but not quite: just three steps behind her, like a parent guiding a child.

"Why aren't you burning?" Amelie asked her as they were walking to a deserted outdoors restaurant close to the castle—and by close it meant two miles. The castle had many entries as well as many exists, but the one Chelsea had chosen had near some dark alleys where the faint light could not hit her fully. This path was also used by loyal believers who came to the annual festival celebrated on the name of St. Marcus as peregrination; they never really had the chance of finishing the journey, of course.

Amelie had not complained as she sure would about this; Chelsea had carried her, getting them to the actual town of Volterra in no time. Vampire's super speed comes in handy, and she was not impressed by them having all kinds of powers. She was beginning to believe they had been made to be perfect.

Amelie was also starting to think the Volturi were unimpressed by everything, because Chelsea was not annoyed by her purposely annoying questions.

"Because that's a foolish myth. And to kill all of them at once, we don't sleep in coffins, we can see our reflection on mirrors, we do not turn into bats, garlic does us no harm, and we do not go to church, not because crosses or holy water can harm us: it's because it's tedious and boring, and it has no point whatsoever."

"Are you immortal, then?" Chelsea was careful to answer. Her eyes, clouded by thinking, flickered to the waitress nearing to attend them.

"Yes but no. And I'm not explaining that one." Of course she wouldn't. If she answered, she was sure Amelie would find a way to set on fire the castle--even if she was on it. The last thing she wanted was getting on trouble for talking too much; that was Felix's job. And Amelie, sensing half of this, spoke again nonchalantly.

"Fair."

The waitress, a pretty olive skinned girl, got to their table on thirty seven seconds of silence after Amelie had last spoken and she, containing her urge to throw a comment about the lack of blood on the menu, ordered some sort of pasta three minutes later—some sort, because she did not read Italian. The waitress did not seem to be on a good mood either; she was constantly throwing bothered glances towards both women.

"Preferite una bevanda per andare con la vostra pasta?" Amelie almost admired the waitress for distorting such a simple question into an insult. Almost, because she was still talking to her. Even though Amelie could barely understand Italian, she could read the levels of annoyance on anybody; the waitress was not getting any tips.

"Té. And why don't you shove that menu up your…"

"Appena acqua." Chelsea interrupted Amelie while rolling her eyes, making use of her heavy Italian accent. The waitress left glaring at Amelie without another word, probably sensing the insult she was going to receive. Chelsea, though, had words for the human in front of her.

"I must say, I'm unimpressed by your lack of manners. I thought they hosted tea parties on England often, though…"

Her curiosity had prickled when the beautiful vampire mentioned her place of birth. "Doesn't mean I attended. But I _am _curious, it's my accent that obvious, or has your little master been spying on me?"

Her smile did not reach her eyes. "Both. We know we have a criminal in our hands, so don't worry about trying to behave differently now." Amelie's thoughts stopped mid-way. "And you should really practice your Italian, it's awful." She added.

"What exactly do you know about…?" She asked cautiously, not wanting to give too much about the true reason behind her query. The abortion almost made her ashamed. She had come to Italy to keep it a secret, to end the life of the…_thing_… that was inside of her because she barely could with her own. The abortion made her ashamed, but she never doubted it had been the right decision, if there was such.

"I can't blame you for killing a child. You would have surely killed him if he was born anyway."

Even though Amelie believed it, that had been a cold hard slap she was not ready for.

The waitress came with a glass of water. If Amelie hadn't been awestruck by the bluntness on Chelsea's voice, she would have said something not really nice, but she understood this was one of those moments when she just needed to shut up.

"Aro knows by now every thought you have had on your mind. We would have found out eventually. Besides, you are practically a saint _now_. I can almost see you destroy half the castle in seconds for blood after all of this is over." She laughed without humor.

"Aro knows my thoughts?"

Chelsea arched a perfect eyebrow. "I thought you would have find out by now. So much for potential…"

Everything clicked with a slightly clouded tint. "He reads thoughts through touch…but that's not common, is it? Myths don't…"

"I already told you, human: myths are utterly stupid. And yes, he reads minds; every thought you ever had, actually. Most members of the Guard have a special talent; that's why they are part of it in the first place. Master Aro asked for you because he sees great potential on you developing an unusual gift." Strange; she had always longed for being told she was special, but she wasn't really whole now that it happened.

"Really? Didn't see that one coming. And your gift…?"

"Is not your problem."

"But it wasn't my problem knowing Aro's either."

A tense silence filled the air. Chelsea narrowed her eyes while Amelie smiled to her oddly; it wasn't a grimace like the ones she was used to see. They did not broke eye contact until Chelsea saw through her peripheral vision the waitress making her way to them some ten feet away.

"I control bonds. Loyalty for example. Curiosity hasn't been the only thing pulling you to stay with us."

She said nothing more, and Amelie was going to press for more details, but her attempts got interrupted; the annoyed _and _annoying waitress was there with her food. She took her pasta and brushed it to the side.

"I don't feel like eating…"

"That's _your _problem. I did my job at getting you something to eat." Unimpressed, again, unaffected. Amelie wanted to break her façade.

"Then enjoy it too; eat it. Or is your diet that strict?"

Chelsea did not seem to notice her way of getting answers. "We don't eat. So leave your useless pride a side and eat; you are thin already, if that's what you are worried about."

"You think I'm worried about my figure?"

"Isn't that what humans worry about these days?" Now Chelsea was staring at a few humans who were trying to cover themselves with everything they had; the clouds had stopped dancing and it had started raining.

"Well, you could answer that question yourself: you were one." Her gaze followed Chelsea's and it stayed there for a long time.

"Just shut up and eat." Rarely obediently, she started to eat after sighing once; she hated cold food as much as she hated tanning. "You should get some sleep as well; you look hideous." Chelsea added and she was not thankful for the comment.

"Well, _Chelsea_, it's kind of hard when I have high possibilities of never waking up again."

"Your worries are predictable and understandable, but foolish. We are not the only way you can get killed. Maybe the easiest, but not the only one. I strongly recommend you some sleep; enjoy it while you can." The revelation took Amelie a back.

"Oh, you don't sleep either? Is that supposed to be metaphorical?" When Chelsea did not respond, she took it as a no. "I'm curious, though." _She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, could she? _"If you don't sleep or eat, what do you do at night?"

"We are called the Night Patrons of the Arts. We study and develop all types of art during the dark hours." _Art?_

"Didn't see that one coming either." Amelie commented.

"When I had just been changed, me neither. It took me a time to adjust to it; to everything, really. I wasn't a really artistic person when I was alive, but everything comes some natural, so graceful in this new life…it's almost surreal." Chelsea seemed to swim too deeply on her extent ocean of reveries.

"So… what are you good at? Do you paint? Do you dance? Do you act?" Amelie could just imagine a hidden theater on the dungeons, Aro reciting a monologue about how hard the times have gotten with the theatrical nature of his…She had to put the fork in her mouth to prevent laughing.

"I write." Somehow, it fitted her. She couldn't see Chelsea doing other thing than writing after she told her.

"Writing suits you."

"It also entertains me on my free time. Priscilla is the only moron who dances. Sometimes Heidi tags along." This grabbed her attention. Dancing…? Well, that seemed interesting. She had always loved competition. She was now swirling the fork, sipping the water. Her eyes never found Chelsea's.

"Does she do it well?"

"Heidi? I guess so. I don't specially pay attention to her. She's really self-absorbed. Felix though…" Her thoughts trailed, and Amelie, sensing her restraint to continue, decided to keep the conversation alive.

"I used to dance. But I suppose you know that. I attended a dance school in England for almost four years."

"So I've heard. I hope you give Heidi a hard time. She needs it." Amelie could just nod while biting down a another laugh—quite literally. She channeled her new found mood otherwise.

"Is sex by any way a type of art here on Italy? Because Demetri _is _quite good looking…"Amelie said, sipping the glass of water again, a grimace gracing her lovely face.

The conversation faded when Chelsea ignored her, and Amelie got concentrated on pleasing her hunger instead. The hunger had beaten the curiosity, at last. It was still raining, but less. The time was flying, though, and she did not like the fast pace it had, so she tried to prolong it; going back to the dark room of hers never seemed so unattractive. She had finished her fourth glass of water when Chelsea stopped her, taking the glass from her at incredible speed. She was surprised the glass did not shatter.

"Good try. I'm not having a human vomiting on my hair all the way back to the castle. We are leaving."

_Busted_.

Chelsea, from one hidden pocket of her clothe, that resembled Heidi's, took out fifty euros without bothering to ask for change. Amelie, though, had been eyeing seventy euros lying on a table close to theirs, and she just couldn't help herself.

"Give that back." The unimpressed voice again; no stern tone, no scolding. When Amelie did not respond, she spoke again. "Why would you need to steal money? You are part of us now."

"Oh, I know. Soon I won't even be needing food, but let me reunite enough money to fly off the country if I get a chance to escape, will you?" That broke through Chelsea's composed face; she _snorted _gracefully. Amelie hadn't thought that was possible at all.

"Sure, then. Keep dreaming. Save that for tampons; you'll need them."

Amelie hadn't thought about that, but it was a topic intriguing enough to keep her thinking all the way back to the tower, the topic then dividing into others. Her survival never seemed so impossible.

******

She doesn't know how it happened, but she fell asleep. Amelie hadn't realized she was so tired. She was thankful for the dreamless slumber, as quick as it was, because it would have been even more fleeting if the images of blood--the ones she had seen when Aro had kissed her hand, a thing she could not yet understand--made an unwelcome appearance again. When she slowly woke up, she tried to chase the sleep that was painfully drifting away, momentarily forgetting about the danger she was in by doing so. She gave up when a weak ray of the sun hit her in the face, blinding her for a moment.

The window had been opened.

She was officially not sleeping again. The one that opened the window could have so easily killed her in the process. That was, of course, until she felt a cold presence in the room.

"It's just me." Chelsea was shuffling through the things Heidi had brought to her. She had her cloak back on. "Heidi is one selfish bitch. She brought you the ugliest clothes she had." Amelie could only shrug in response, a gesture she was sure Chelsea had caught even if she was giving Amelie her back. She buried her face on the pillow again.

"You are not sleeping again. Your body is already reacting too awake. Get up and approve of these human items."

Amelie got up lazily, stumbling on her way to the dark corner where the vanity was localized and where Chelsea had put Heidi's clothes along with the things she had brought herself. She had to blink twice to see right. Toothpaste, brush, toiletries, tampons…

"I highly doubt you bought all of this."

"Monica, our receptionist, did." _Pfft. I could have easily gotten it myself. _She needed to ask the reason behind the Volturi having a receptionist. She imagined it had something to do with receiving the victims a millisecond too late; the words had already been pronounced.

"Why would you need a receptionist?" She asked, distracted by the things she was revising.

"Don't ask me. Receptionists are food too."

Her throat dried up. "She's human…?"

"_Duh_." The youthful expression sounded extremely odd in her voice. "Heidi can't do everything. She fishes, Monica welcomes humans. We have not introduced her to you because we would have to kill her sooner than expected. She's not stupid enough to let slip that you are becoming one of us and she's not." Chelsea had climbed the vanity, sitting on it's top, legs crossed. The sunlight was hitting her face reflexively and Amelie noted she had a strange glow on her face. She spoke again, seeming to have been thinking carefully what she was saying next.

"She wishes to have your fate, you know?" Her melodious voice sounded slightly tender, like an extension of the weeping sound the wind made, with all it's knowledge, with all his calmness.

"She wishes to be one of you?"

"Why else would she stay if she gets no salary? Humans are so stupid…no offense." It sounded half-heartedly, but she took it as she had meant it. Chelsea's bored tone was back.

"Non taken." Exasperated to go to the bathroom and actually take a shower now that she saw toiletries, she asked, "Where's the khazi?"

"The bathroom is through that door. But it's not working properly; we don't pay for unnecessary water if we don't have to. One of the guys will come and fix it." Chelsea noted the change in the pattern of her heartbeats, and took that as fear. "I'll be sure you won't be here; they would probably eat you."

"Probably in more ways than one, but not if I smell like this." To Amelie, it had been more about lust and anticipation mixed in together.

If Chelsea hadn't been taught to be expressionless, she would have smiled. "You do smell kind of horrible. I have one, but use Monica's. I'll guide you to it; she must not see you." On half of a second, she was out the door. Chelsea had left the door open, a sign for her to follow. Amelie took some of the toiletries with herself and got to the door at a slower pace than she had, muttering all the way through.

"Why do I feel like the human is the one most likely to eat me rather than the vampire?"

* * *

**Chapter Five is done. **

**And so are my vacations! Give me five seconds while I pale in horror… As soon as Monday morning I start my sophomore year at High School. Did you know Sophomore means "wise fool"? **

**It won't mean less updates, because I have a few chapters done, but it will mean me reading the Quixote, and I hate when people MAKE me read. God. It seems so boring. It has been there on my night stand mocking all summer long. **

**But I'm open to give it a try if someone recommends it to me on a review. :D**

**Until the next update. **

**-Mia.**

**PS: If you are no stranger to YouTube fandom videos, you should check out the major contest SmokeyFiizz is holding: SoYouThinkYouCanVid. Search for it that way. I swear, you won't be disappointed! It makes me sad that ForeverGia didn't make the cut…**

**PS2: Is it forbidden advertising on your own stories? Hehe…**


	6. Furious Angels

**A/N**: Ain't Sylar/Elle from Heroes an awesomely mad couple? Because I'm obsessed with them!

**Disclaimer**: I would buy piña coladas for everybody if I had as much money as Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

Chapter 6

**Furious Angels**

"I still don't understand why we should keep her. She will be just a burden to all of us!"

"Jane, please. Don't you trust Aro?" Alec rarely spoke, but her sister was talking nonsense and she needed to be soothed.

"Of course I trust him, but sometimes I think his judgment is clouded by a ridiculously absurd compassion! Like leaving that traitor of Eleazar get away with that Spanish whore…" He had to roll his eyes at that, because being in the coven was choice, and Eleazar had made his, upsetting Jane terribly, even though they did not share more than ten words in his stay.

Alec and Jane were part of the Volturi moved by gratitude, something that outranked choice in unimaginable ways. Aro had saved them from the terrible fate that life had prepared for them. Decades ago, he unleashed them from those little closed minded humans who could not stand the power the twins had, or understand it. But Aro understood perfectly. The outstanding gifts both children possessed were one more step to the fulfillment of his self proclaimed glory.

"Little Jane, watch your language, please. You are infuriating the creator's of _Rex The Police dog_!"

Jane was not in the mood of arguing with Felix, who had just entered the room but had heard her words perfectly from the hall; she just dismissed him with a sharp pain right in his heart. He seemed to receive the pain gladly, reflexively taking his hands to his heart while erupting in laughter.

"Feisty…_ow_!" The pain increased, but Felix seemed to be having fun instead, ignoring the now bothering pressure that hit his chest.

"If you appreciate your existence, you will play _nice_."

"Why don't you take your own advice then, _bella_? You seem quite enraged by the human girl…" This distracted her momentarily, and she turned to Alec, who she sensed was having a hard time believing her, to prove her point.

"Shouldn't we all be!?" Felix almost got up from the floor. Almost… "She poses a threat to all of us, including our masters and yourself, imbecile!"

"I don't think I understand. Why exactly do you think she's a threat?" Alec asked this time with his subdued tone, even thought he understood perfectly the motives of Jane's wrath; living with her for centuries had taught him the high level of desire for greatness and approval she had. No member of the coven that had come after them had posed as a threat to Jane on the achievement of her goal until Bella, who had declined, until Amelie, who had accepted.

Jane just didn't like competition now that she had it.

"How can we be sure she will have a power in the first place? I see the same potential of her developing a power that a _squirrel _has and ever will!" Felix almost rolled his eyes; it was a must. For being a sadistic vampire, she was _such _a girl.

"That's not true."

"If she does, maybe it turns out to be more powerful than all of ours combined, killing us all at once! Even worse, she could surpass our power in Aro's eyes! You do know how Master Aro's attention is ridiculously fleeting!" Alec was already sending his translucent wave of numbness to Felix; he would sure comment on Jane's real reasoning, as Alec clearly saw them too. Jane wouldn't be too amused.

"_Ah_…we finally get to the point. Aren't _you _the only one threatened then?"

Another sharp jab of pain, greater than the ones she had sent to him. Felix writhed in pain. No amount of Alec's power could stop the wrath of Jane's.

"_I told you to respect me!" _It sounded as if Jane was the one writhing in pain rather than Felix, the big guy who had no control of the situation moving disturbingly on the floor. If vampires could cry, Jane would have been on the verge of tears—_she _was out of control. Because Alec cared for his sister more than anyone in the world, he decided to try to stop her, but not too hard, before she could end more disoriented than she already was.

"You are loosing it." His voice was collected.

"Why can't you… just accept you… got replaced?" Sharper, affecting his ability to think correctly.

Cutting the sentence short, because she couldn't afford to lose her cruel façade to an insecurity of her, even if it was greater than all of the ones she had had on all her existence, she said, "Because I'm not, _bastard_."

"Jane, stop." She stopped at once. Santiago entered, his stern face, unchanged since his transformation, hidden by his cloak. "Master Aro requests talking to you." His voice was the only thing that indicated he suffered.

This seemed to brighten her day and her face alto together. She quickly left her distraction, took Alec's hand—because when it meant Jane, it also meant Alec—and exited the room, leaving an amused Felix recovering quickly from the pain the young girl had cursed upon him. Santiago left too, without helping Felix or insulting him either.

***************

"Come on! I want to meet her!" Priscilla. An average 5'3 blonde vampire, who had no power but to being a pain on Chelsea's ass.

"Go ahead. She must be in her room by now. Get lost."

"Chelsea, you know I can't do it without any witnesses." The newborn vampire had been struggling with resistance when it was needed, a thing she needed to have down if she wanted to stay. Priscilla knew this perfectly, and she did not plan to stay too long either.

"Please. You never do any favors to me. Or talk to me for that matter." She sounded like she had just realized it.

Chelsea was illuminating the multiple candles that decorated the castle's halls—but not Amelie's—with Priscilla following her every step with a pleading look. "You just reminded me why."

"Please. You talked to her. Just introduce us. I promise I will behave." Chelsea does not remember the reason Priscilla joined the coven as she looks down to her eyes. It was almost as if she didn't fit. Not that a lot of people did, including her, but Priscilla in particular had something on her stare that labeled her as too innocent, too inexpert with her past life, to become a member of the guard in her next one. Chelsea doubted she deserved the punishment of being a vampire at all.

"Will you leave me alone afterwards?"

Priscilla couldn't smile wider. "Deal."

"Get going. You are ruining my schedule." She carefully saved the matches on her most hidden pocket. Priscilla obediently followed her at unnatural speed, realizing what Chelsea meant by 'schedule'.

"Afton can wait _forever_."

"Complaining has the wonderful ability of making me forget everything…" She sang. Or maybe she could just set her on fire and end her suffering…

The decision Aro made had been predictable, yet every member of the guard took it differently and as if they had not been hearing the gossip for weeks. Lines started to be drawn and the weight on Chelsea's shoulders had just gotten heavier, if that was possible. She despised her power for it.

Priscilla, who had been yearning for a 'best friend' who she could talk to on sleepless nights, since both Heidi and Evangeline had refused, was one of the guard members who were thrilled about the newcomer. Probably just the only one. Chelsea slightly appreciated her for it, but her annoying side made up for the lack of pressure. Some members of the guard were not happy about it, but they did not condemn her to death just yet. Felix, Ian, Ming, Timón, Chelsea and, by consequent because he would even approve of his own death to maintain her mate's existence, Afton, was part of the latter category. They saw potential on her, whatever the purpose involved.

The Guard had divided into other two groups that thought differently, yet similarly. Of course, none of those opinions mattered when Aro had the final say, but they still voiced their thoughts in the most respectfully way possible between them because they were well aware Aro always found out. Some of them just kept their silence. Nobody knew which one was worse.

Callum, Corin, Heidi, Demetri, Santiago, Evangeline, Lucian, and Kurtic could have cared less. Heidi was only bothered about the clothe she had to give away, since the human and her wore the same size. This bothered her too.

But Jane, Alec, and the rest fifteen members of the guard who remained unnamed thought the human was not worthy of becoming one of them. Some of them just did not want to make a mistake and drink her blood by _accident, _driven by the sudden but perpetual blood lust that haunted them. They did not even dare on thinking about the consequences that would present.

So, as Chelsea creaked the door open, not bothering to look for the right key because she had them memorized, Priscilla couldn't contain her excitement, or the sweet scent that was all over the door, hitting her all at once. Chelsea sensed the slight but obvious changes on the position of her body. She almost backed off their deal.

"Don't breath." She ordered her. She could do that, Priscilla thought, encouraging herself.

"Amelie?"

"_It's not like my secret lover sneaked in._" Amelie muttered. She knew both Chelsea and Priscilla heard her, but they decided to ignore her. Amelie was seated at the vanity; one of the three mirrors shattered.

"I got company. She can't talk much; she's a newborn. And what the hell did you do now?" Amelie looked at her through the other two mirrors.

"It's my room. I can do whatever I want to do, right? Well, I don't want mirrors, and I'm breaking the other two. I'm probably going to bleed, so you two being in this room is not a smart idea." Chelsea looked at her unimpressed, and instead off shattering mirrors, Amelie wanted to brake her face. Not that she would succeed while human…

She faced the vampires.

The newborn was not really pretty, yet the odd innocence in her crimson eyes gave her an ethereal presence. In fact, they looked so beautiful, they were disturbing to watch if you did for too long. Priscilla took one long stride towards her, and Chelsea immediately took her roughly by the arm. She did not care, though, and proceeded to speak.

"You are so beautiful! No wonder Heidi is all moody! And you are from England _too_! "

"Limited air, Priscilla." The blonde gave her an apologetic smile. She was indeed having trouble resisting the scent as she caught one of Amelie's breaths.

"Amelie, this is Priscilla. Priscilla, Amelie. There. _Happy_?" The blonde vampire smiled to Amelie, while Chelsea gave both an exasperated look. She was keeping Afton waiting, and neither of them liked it. Amelie, for instance, shrugged, weakly smiling the rest of a past full smile, giving Chelsea a confused look.

"She just wanted to welcome you…?" It sounded as a question, because even Chelsea was unsure of the words choice. _Welcome_. How well can entering to your death be?

After some awkward polite words that sounded sorority-like, Amelie was left alone in the room. "Duties to be fulfilled." Priscilla had groaned at that, and Amelie smiled, because she had some edge.

Three weeks had come and gone with the same torturing pace and the anxiety has her over the edge. She misses smoking on good days, she realized. Sleeping is not a necessity anymore, and even though it has been hard, her body must have been feeling the pressure of other necessity instead: being alive. She has long reveries awake, who were not helping, but that did not hurt either.

Amelie realized the Volturi relied an awful lot on schedules. Maybe it was just Chelsea, but she was globalizing them all parting from the fact that she was the only vampire who had constant contact with her. Not even Aro, who had been the wicked inventor of it all, had pay a visit. Not that she minded or wanted a visit either; the lack of sleep brought her very inconvenient mood swings.

Amelie had just gotten out of Monica's bathroom really late at night, maybe early at morning. She hated her own bathroom; you couldn't shower properly on the circular bathtub, besides, Monica had an impressive amount of anti-rejuvenating creams she liked to fool around with—Chelsea had called her out for this once.

With the towel on her head, but Chelsea nowhere to be seen—an oddity, since she always waited for her on a window close by—she took her disappearance as an opportunity to watch everything more carefully. The bathroom was just a corridor down the reception, which was really dark. Only the single lamp on Monica's desk, that was colored a horrible green and that provided light of the same color, was on. A carefully organized stack of papers—bills, she noted—were lying on the colossal desk. Nothing she could find out about. She shuffled the papers on it, just for something to give Monica to do, playing with the comfortable office chair. She also took the wet towel off her hair, leaving it on the papers.

Already bored, because she had the attention spawn of a five year old, she got up and walked up to the entrance. She could smell cigarette smoke and this intrigued her. Stairs surprised her, because when she thought about it, she hadn't really seen stairs in all the time she had spent in the castle. They were not too grand, though, and seated on the last one of them, there was Felix smoking. Without looking at her or making previous signals that he had noted the intruder, he spoke.

"Bored?"

"To death." She answered, but Felix said nothing more. She took a seat some stairs up him, not wanting to be too close. Silence filled the air, and she was even more exasperated than before.

"Can you please give that to someone who can _actually _get lung cancer?" He made no sign about hearing her, but his position shifted.

"If it has venom on it, it's because you smell rather delicious." He handed her the cancer stick, and she took it with a doubtful expression, but not hesitating. "It won't kill you, but it might stun you momentarily."

"I think I'll take my chances." She brought the cigarette up her mouth, and took two long drags before speaking again. She found she had trouble doing so; her tongue was annoyingly heavy. Amelie suddenly had a déjà vu; she remembered countless time her tongue had gotten stuck on her own mouth in front of a police officer. Her charm could only do _so _much.

"I told you so." Felix said, noticing her struggle while looking into the grand door in front of them, but to nothing in reality. The silence lasted for ten long minutes, who were probably nothing to Felix. Amelie wasn't bothered; the cigarette had brought to her some kind reverie, not like the ones that had replaced her sleeping habits, but an _actual _nice one. She realized a second later, she was having trouble staying awake, though; the yearning for sleep had melded both reveries, making it one, and it had decided to appear on an inconvenient time.

"You can sleep. I can't promise you I won't eat you, though." Felix winked at her, but she said nothing. She arched and eyebrow when he close the space between them, skipping at least four escalates at once. Amelie could really see him now, the faintest of lights adorning his face. He was gorgeous. His face was an extension of the incredible body he must have had under his robes. His lips, especially, were slightly pouted, but not quite, and when the sardonic but playful smile graced his mouth, he showed the perfect teeth between his lips.

"Where's Chelsea?" He asked, almost eagerly, with a glint of his eye, and she suddenly thought coming down there hadn't been her brightest idea, as tempting as it had seem.

"I have no idea. I thought you might know."

"_Mmh_…If Chelsea's missing she's probably just shagging Afton. _Naughty, naughty girl_." The comment did not sound as if he were referring to Chelsea, and even though he was beautiful, she had the urge to gag. She knew that to Chelsea, her duties on the guard were first, so his theory was improbable. His breath was on her face, the sickly sweet smell inviting her in, fooling her for a moment. Blinking twice, she decided to ignore his flattery.

"That was totally unnecessary for my ears."

"Oh, flower, you will have to get used to things around here." His tone lowered, sounding husky. Had she been wrong about Chelsea, then?

Now he was touching her chin, and it was getting uncomfortable. It wasn't like she couldn't have her fun with him; it was more about the slight to none possibilities she had of rubbing it on Heidi's face later, because he was crossing the fine line between attraction and bloodlust vampires did not have clearly in the first place. His little game of innocent touch was becoming more serious, and dangerous. His next words just proved it.

"Or maybe you won't. If I drink you dry right now, for example. Every drop of that delicious blood of yours… That is a _really _mouthwatering idea. Don't you think, pretty one?" He let his words hang on the air for lingering seconds; he was now playing with a lock of her wet hair. She shoved him away putting her hand on his face, but he took it instead with such force, Amelie was sure that was going to leave a bruise. Again. His eyes were wild, and the dark burgundy had suddenly become flat black in a blink of an eye.

"Let's not be petulant. How about I just taste a _little _of you? It won't hurt…" _Maybe_. He had brought Amelie's hand, holding it by her wrist, to his mouth. Amelie's lazy mind, who had taken the worst of moments to drift into an awaken sleep, woke up suddenly alarmed, his charming effect breaking. If he was biting her, there was no way he was stopping halfway…

"How about you taste a little nicotine, instead?" With those words, she shoved the cigarette on his mouth, right onto his tongue, but backwards. Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Vampires could burn, and she had just made matters worse.

Suddenly shocked about Felix's own shocked reaction, she stood up and tried to run, but it was pointless; Felix, still shouting unintelligible profanities, took one of her ankles and she hit the stairs quite loudly—and painfully—frustrating her chances of escaping. She had been so stupid…

_Well, Mom, wherever you are, sorry for being a bitch to you all this time… I'll be doing Daddy some company on Hell for now. I guess…I'll see you there too. _

Her knees hit the border of one step, successfully causing her one of the grater pains she had been in for quite some good time. She tried to hold on to the highest steps, but it was all useless; he had already turned her so she was facing him. She did think about her family twice. That surprised her.

_Sorry, baby._

Then, Felix was suddenly, and very roughly, shoved into the door, flying at least some ten feet, hitting it to the point the dark antique wood cracked.

"Son of a…!"

He had clearly seen something she hadn't. Afton, in all his ancient glory, was standing above her, now sweeping her off her feet, just like Felix had done time ago.

"If you don't want the Master to know about this, you will leave her alone as long as she stays in here, is that understood?" The authority ringed in every word, and for the first time in her life, Amelie was genuinely scared of someone. The tone his voice possessed had such power, it had impressed her greatly, and she would have said something if the sweeping sound the wind made when he started running to her room hadn't cooed her to sleep.

***************

She hadn't known how she got to her room until she remembered what had happened. And she hardly did. Thinking hurt.

It also hurt to stand up too fast, so she had to lay down just as fast when she did. She closed her eyes, but the feeling of someone watching her attacked her at the same time as the pain on one of her knees did. Amelie felt cold hands barely touch her hurt knee, and she just had to sit down. She regretted her decision as she bit her lip; the pain was becoming bothering. The pain was nothing, though, compared to the dazzling sight of the pale man in front of her, who was working at an incredibly fast pace in her knee without even caressing it.

"Easy there. You can definitely break it if you make any sudden movements." His voice was as dreamy and velvety as his beauty had predicted. His face, though, made some kind of contrast with his helpful nature; it was troubled. He must have been thinking something serious; the crease between his eyebrows showed how old he had the potential to be.

"Great. A broken leg was all I needed." She muttered, unable to look away from him.

The stranger said nothing, and when she shifted to see him better, their eyes met for a brief second. It was all Amelie needed to see to realize she had died. A gold-eyed angel. Because if Felix and Demetri were gorgeous, this _must _have been an angel. A _really _good looking one at that. If she hadn't imagined God as an old guy with grey beard, she would have thought this was God in the flesh.

"Angelsexist after all…and Heaven looks a hell like my old room…" Realizing she had said the now 'H' word, she apologized half heartedly. She interrupted him when he was about to speak.

"I must say, it's kind of absurd of me being in Heaven. They should totally fire Peter. Oh… I get it. You come here to drop me in the fiery pits of hell instead. Don't worry, I agree. But only if you _really _have to…" She batted her eyelashes like superficial girls and cartoons did on TV, messing with her hair.

_Incredible_. She was trying to work her charm on one of God's angels. She was _so _going to Hell after that stunt. He decided to speak, a brief smile on his perfect formed lips.

"I'm afraid you are not in Heaven or Hell. For Now. And I'm far from being anything ethereal." That must have explained the remains of the numbing but sharp pain on her knee. His expression seemed troubled again, but Amelie did not notice it.

She just had to laugh out loud—in fact, it was the only laugh someone had gotten out of her in almost a whole year. He was slightly amused.

"That's awkward!" When her laughter died down, she added, "And if you are not God or an angel, sorry about that, mate…" She had to stiff a laugh again. "…then who are you?"

The beautiful stranger gave her a little smile, but it was more breathtaking that any of hers could ever be.

"I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

* * *

**Author's Note****: Yes, yes. What? I love Carlisle. It was only a matter of time before he made his appearance! One big, juicy, and bitchy writer's block attacked me, as usual, which explains the delay on the posting of this chapter. Besides, school has been a pain on my butt. I had a Spanish Exam today worth having nightmares about! **

**Thanks to **Koprs**, who beta read this chapter ages ago--chapter that I had initially lost! Get well, hun! Thinking about it…it's so ironic you have a hurt knee too!**

**Also, I want to thank a few of my classmates, who rock, and left me a review.**

**So, now **_**you **_**review ****me! Tell me I suck! I'm eager to hear that!**


	7. Healing the Broken

**Author's Initial Note**: I might be developing or/and changing cannon just a little bit.

**Chapter Dedication**: This one goes to Lady [Gaga], as promised. Her reaction to last chapter gave me goose bumps.

**Disclaimer**: This will probably the last one. Truth hurts. I do not own The Twilight Saga--nor do I really wish to--or any of it's characters, settings, or plots. Everything belongs to Stephenie Meyer, and the greedy rightful owners.

* * *

Chapter 7

**Healing of the Broken**

The lack of sleep had her verging the thin edge of insanity. Chelsea had been the only one who kept her alive, bringing her both food and trivial information about the coven. Amelie barely listened. She hadn't muttered a word in a long time, but not because she hadn't been on the state to do so; she was restraining herself, instead, considering the risk of talking nonsense. Maybe it was more of a high possibility than a risk. She was careful to react even around Chelsea, who she had gotten used to.

"_Heidi and Felix are _on _again." _The light brunette told her on her fourth week of being part of the Volturi, searching for conversation, an oddity in her.

Heidi and Felix. It was really more of a vicious cycle. Amelie did not blame them, though; an eternity deprived of sex must be torture. She hadn't seen Felix in the last seventeen days since their encounter, and she doesn't thinks she wants to either. Chelsea, on another failed attempt on getting her to talk, told her Carlisle had been guarding her door lately. Afton must have told him what happened with Felix. Amelie had been bathing on her uncomfortable bathtub without complaints now; she knew that putting one foot outside her room was looking for death. And with her late profanation of unintelligible insanities, telling Chelsea more than what Aro needed to know, it was not likely that she could survive the transformation either.

Amelie just nodded weakly, burying her face on her pillow, the sleep acossing her.

Callum had finished his one thousand and third painting, thing he was not exactly proud of, an incomprehensible thing, Chelsea told her. Callum was an interesting being, Amelie had concluded. Chelsea had described him as handsome—as handsome she could describe someone without instantly comparing him to Afton—but close minded, trait he had gotten from his previous life. When his eyes had been green colored, he had been a Christian Greek who had been persecuted to death. A vampire nomad called Evangeline—that now belonged with the Volturi, like her mate—had found him, and they had fallen in love so monotonously, only them understood the reasons that had brought them together in the first place.

Evangeline had been on her previous life the daughter of a roman soldier, kept in secret, because soldiers couldn't marry, and because her mother had been Greek. The Coven of Romanian vampires found her, but she had been one of the many members who had betrayed them to side with the Volturi against them on their thirst for both power and blood.

In one of those brief and rare moments Chelsea acceded to talk about herself, she had announced she had finished twenty two chapters of her 14th novel since Amelie had arrived on the castle. _She wrote fast_. She had also promised to bring Amelie her last chapter, the one where she talked about her, in her last civil attempt to force her into voicing her numb thoughts. She just ignored her, and Chelsea gave up on her without seeming to care, always with the unbreakable façade.

It wasn't that Amelie was unable to talk; her feelings did not let her speak at all, an invisible lump on her throat more uncontrollable and powerful than herself. Ever since Carlisle had arrived at Volterra, she had seen things differently. She was dying. These vampires were changing her life—more like changing _her_—forever. They were _giving _her forever. A forever that was full of haunting memories, because Chelsea hadn't told her humans memories fade with the time. She felt cold, helpless, and the lack of sleep just completed it all. Without the hours that sleeping took, she had a chance to think—but not really coherently. So she just left speaking, but not listening.

Priscilla visited her once. Carlisle had entered with her, without really looking either both women. He took a seat far from her bed, where Priscilla had seated.

"I know you don't want to talk. I don't blame you." She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Amelie's scent was distracting, and she felt out of place, even in the presence of a human. _Specially _in the presence of a human, where she could lose control so easily.

"This is not my place either, really. Everyone can tell, even I, who do not seem as smart as other vampires in comparison." There was a pause, but Priscilla spoke again. "I just wanted to tell you that words matter. Someone like Aro doesn't take it on consideration, because he's so confident on his power. I've never relied on my powers that much…"

Priscilla's naturally puffy eyes were suddenly narrowed, the glint of multiple memories passing through them. Amelie instantly knew she was hiding something---that something being _a lot_. She frowned; she had thought Chelsea more observant. Had Aro been as observant as her?

Priscilla looked fleetingly at Carlisle, who was looking straight ahead, his mind lost in thought, but Amelie was sure he had heard every word the blonde had said. When she looked at her again, she still had the same look.

"…because I'm more about words. They can get you anywhere if you combine them with actions."

Still nothing from Amelie.

"I'm leaving soon. Not yet, though. I want to make sure you are okay. You see, the Volturi are never wrong about who they choose when human. I'll see you somewhere in the between of our forever, sister."

Amelie, as much as she wanted to let the words being blown away by the sweet scent of both vampires, they clouded her mind, as usually, and she couldn't fall in the numbness full of reveries she had come to enjoy. Frowning, she closed her eyes harder.

Priscilla hadn't been so stupid after all. Lying had been her key all along, way out she was offering Amelie.

What had been her gift? With the time, Amelie would learn her trait had never been and never would seeing the future.

Carlisle, as quiet as he had entered, escorted her to the door, and both vampires left her room in one fluid motion. Amelie did not watch them; their gracefulness was starting to hurt her ego, and her injured leg did not help on the matter.

Amelie would also learn she would miss talking when she had the chance.

******

"Carlisle! My dear friend! It's so _delightful _to see you again!"

Aro seemed baffled by his friend actually coming, and extremely eager to 'catch up'. Carlisle decided to be laconic, because he knew better than to give Aro reasons to start talking, even though he was sure Aro talked to himself enough for both of them.

Living with a mind reader had become quite an exercise to be able to block thoughts, even from Aro, whose gift worked differently than his son's: he had to concentrate on one thing, that being the purpose of his visit, thing that wasn't exactly specified on the letter he received, though.

"Aro. Marcus. Caius." He said, nodding towards each.

"Sources tell me you have been in here long enough already. I'm almost offended by your lack of enthusiasm to greet us…" Aro made the comment to sound friendly, an ice breaker perhaps. But you can't break ice with a needle, with such weak statement. Aro's plans to reunite with Carlisle like nothing had happened crashed down when he sensed his sober mood, too tough to crack even for him.

"Your gloomy mood is quite intoxicating. Still pushy about our last encounter, I see." He sighed unnecessarily. "I will accept, we behaved quite rudely, but it was such a _human _mistake, we can not be judged by such! A friendship of so many years, and years to come, can't be destroyed for such a little insignificant incident. I'm sure you agree…"

"We used to agree on much things, didn't we, my dear friend?" Like Caius mind was synched with Aro's, he spoke, making an extension of his statement before Carlisle could respond, because he knew what his response would be.

"Except on your ridiculous way of living. Haven't you gotten tired yet?" Aro asked, with a genuinely puzzled face, his confused expression mixed with that of a child who had played a game too many times.

The edges of Carlisle's purpose were beginning to slowly fade; Aro had been looking for a way to distract him, searching his weakness besides his family. But that was pointless if you already knew; the mind reader knew how to crack Carlisle's determined mind, every weakness, every strength, and discussing humans was not his particularly favorite topic.

But Carlisle also knew Aro, maybe not like Aro knew him, but just enough to make himself remember to cut the chase. He still answered as laconic as he could.

"I prefer to keep my conscience intact. Human lives deserve more than to be cut short by us, who have no right upon them." He felt like he was betraying his own words as he thought of his lovely daughter Rosalie, and her other half Emmett, of his oldest son Edward… He had condemned them all by giving them the worst kind of salvation there was.

"_Ah_. That same philosophy?" Caius asked, his tone a little too bothered to be passed as bored.

"Some humans are just meant to die, Carlisle. In fact, in one way or another, they all are! You are interrupting God's plans for his little puppets." Aro said mockingly instead, like he was teaching Carlisle a lesson he had failed over and over again, the word _God _tasting bitter on his mouth.

"Which bring us to my visit. This young girl…"

"Ah! Yes! The little beauty Amelie Birmingham is! I'm sure you have seen her already. That girl must be as clumsy as your lovely latest daughter in law." He laughed dryly once, remembering hearing the vague details of her accident by gossip.

"How is Bella and your family, now that I remember?" He continued, "Are they good? Is her child drinking her milk? We don't want her to stop growing _just yet_." There was a double meaning to his words, both deadly, and Carlisle could barely contain the edge on his tone when he answered his query.

"_Reneesmé _is growing quite impressively. She will be attending high school this fall."

"Oh. That's great." Shameless disappointment. Carlisle could tell he was expecting otherwise. _Of course he was. _"We surely want to know more about that intriguing child. She's _such _a mystery to us. And to think we had the luck of her getting to be part of your family, such close acquaintances!" His excitement never aged, never faded.

The friendship the Volturi and Carlisle maintained had it's base on Carlisle's exploration of the new life he had been damned with on his first years as a newborn. But he had parted ways with them for their form of survival; Carlisle just wanted to live without the guilt of taking lives like the vampires who had taken his.

Even though he had not stayed on the Volturi's domains for long, he had forged a bond between the ancient creatures on the need for familiarity. When Carlisle was changed, there were no answers for the multiple questions he had about the creature he had become. Like a man lost in the desert, he was constantly surrounded by people he could potentially hurt, where no one could help him, because there was no such help for a monster like him. And he just couldn't take it…

He had found the Volturi shortly after and their civilized manners gave him hope that he could—maybe, just maybe—make an agreement with himself, accepting what he was without shame. The three graceful men, and the totality of the guard (who lacked the wicked twins and half the members it had on the present) got their survival by drinking human blood, though, and it was just unacceptable by Carlisle. It was their differences in the matter that just couldn't keep them in the same place any longer; the human life defender had parted ways with them on his search for self-forgiveness for the deaths he had caused, perhaps for research on the ways he could live without the eternal sorrow caused by the memory of his terrified first victims.

He arrived to America, and he just stopped eating alto together.

_Because nothing done, no harm._

He thinks his abstinence made the monster inside of him even more furious for blood, that ecstasy in dense, liquid form. His struggle to control the desperate hunger that haunted him eventually got the best of the doctor, and he found an alternate way of surviving by feeding of animals. That was the first time he had fed and heard nobody scream. Maybe the farmer, but that was another story—something that involved the chupacabra…

Aro's sigh got him back from his memories. Carlisle found him with a face full of pity, his head resting on the back of his chair, his jet black hair falling gracefully on it.

"_Oh_…I hope our bonds haven't been that damaged to actually be able to maintain contact during the times." Aro said, seeming to be saddened by the mistake he had made, seeming being the key word.

"Don't trail off, Aro." The annoyance of Caius broke through his composed mood, finally tired of Aro circling the subject for the sake of relationships.

"But of course, how foolish of me to not formally discuss the reason of your visit!"

"There's no need to know her name, or the details of her face. She's as human as all of them are." Caius was exasperated, waiting for the final question to be asked and to the deal to be sealed. Marcus sensed, though, Caius wished Carlisle would refuse to change the girl, not because he bothered her, because he did not care about her in the minimum, but because his refusal would initiate speculations about searching reasons to start the imminent war sooner. Caius had always been too eager to be immortal.

"This is quite an intriguing child, though; so young, so…_usable_." The word sounded dirty on his mouth, and Aro couldn't hide his smile.

Suddenly, Carlisle asked what Aro had been eager for.

"Why couldn't _you _change her?"

Aro had thought about this. He knew Carlisle; he was not as stupid as Aro would've liked. He would claim to know the reason he had brought him to Volterra, away from everything he loved. Because he had time to plan and change the lies carefully, they came easier and more gracefully, each word carefully pronounced with a flawless ringing truth. Not even little Alice could have seen it.

That was the thing that made Carlisle suspect.

"She sings to me." His tone was neutral, with just a bit of conviction added to a tad of shame. "It won't be easy, as you may know, to control myself if her blood smells so…mouthwatering." Carlisle's wasn't sure of the cause of the shine in Aro's burgundy eyes.

If Marcus hadn't been part of them, he would have snorted. Aro continued.

"I don't trust any other vampire on this important task, but I choose you, my old friend. Think about it like a way to make sure things will eventually…heal between us." Carlisle's eyes were stony.

"Of course, Aro. I never wanted to things to fall apart like they did." And part of that statement would be true if Carlisle did not suspect about their attempt to still destroy him and his family. But maybe, just maybe, Aro would have more gratitude towards him and all of the Cullens for giving him a potential member, a potential enemy. Carlisle knew this; this matter had been discussed by him with his oldest son.

It was Caius' time for trailing off on his own remembered wrath. "Neither did we. But things unfold, irritating and incompetent people confuse us all…"

"Enough about the past! We have a promising future ahead of us. Why don't we enjoy it to it's fullest?" Aro cut him off with a smile that hinted his nature.

"Why not, right?" Carlisle could only respond with dry sarcasm.

"Exactly…"

"Will you do it?" Marcus spoke for the first and last time, like he usually did, with his usual bored tone. He was always the one that looked up for the job to be done, because that was the only purpose Aro had ordered Chelsea to work her gift on him.

The question hung heavily in the air, almost poisoning it. Carlisle took long for a vampire to think about the many aspects the offer involved. The choices were simple: to take his offer, and change the human or to refuse and disgrace the relationship between his family and the coven. There were too much lives involved.

Carlisle had been an active part of human society for more than three hundred years. Walking among people he could help had been his purpose all along, yet he was damned by accident, condemned by the rage his beliefs demanded as he persecuted a coven of the creature he was now. Yes, he was a vampire, but human blood had never been meant to him at all. He refused to kill his brothers, even if meant jeopardizing his own survival. It did not take long until he killed a human against his will, driven by the bloodlust, the part of him he had instantly hated. But Carlisle hadn't tasted human blood in so long, it worried him to taste it again, as much as he struggled to cope with the realization of it.

Besides, ever since Rosalie had accidentally—he still doesn't quite believes it, and he doesn't blames her—voiced her thoughts about how much she had once despised him for denying her choice upon her own life, he had taken a retrospective on the "_little God game he played". _It's useless to say only Jasper and Esme knew how much his beautiful first daughter had hurt him, and how hard it became for him to mask his pain, but neither of them said nothing. Silence was all he asked from his family; it was also all he got.

Truth was, he loved humanity as much as Rosalie wanted it, but his need was more subtle, his resignation more supreme; he knew what he was, and what he couldn't get t be again.

If he acceded to change her, though, he was going to give her choice, even if that meant putting himself on the line.

He did not even bother to consider the other option they were 'giving' him. Refusal had never been an option. But Carlisle knew that, either the choice, it was going to end on tragedy.

He has to be selfish for once. In fact, he wasn't being selfish for _him _at all. Saving his family was all that mattered, even if it meant welcoming to their world another beautiful woman, condemning her to face her own demons like all of them were and eternally would. _Being _one of those demons.

He just nodded grimly, self-disgusted by his own selfish decision just as he tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing and Aro couldn't be more happy; Carlisle had just agreed to his death, taking the first step that would lead him into the dark inside every vampire had.

"I propose a toast celebrating our agreement and our renewed friendship." Caius proposed, his joy not quite matching Aro's, even though the black haired wasn't as pushy.

"Let him be, Caius." Aro soothed Caius for the lack of enthusiasm Carlisle showed, stopping his complaints with a sadistic smile that matched the tone of what he was saying next.

"His nature will eventually call for him." Carlisle could only smile forcefully as he left to dive into the waters of his own purgatory for the wrong do he had just agreed to.

Was he worthy of the forgiveness of his family?

He evades his thoughts on the matter as he steps on her victim's room, meeting Chelsea briefly on the door.

*****

Three more hours felt like three more weeks for her body, but her mind could not tell the difference. Neither could Chelsea, who was determined on getting her out of her sick reverie. Amelie and Chelsea had forged a type of unspoken agreement, where it wasn't necessary to say that they were not friends or that they would stick together as such.

She had just entered with a tray of cold food to her room when Amelie's gaze lay on her, then to the food—moving uncomfortably, because she _was _hungry—dropping at her hands. Chelsea could just sigh unnecessarily loud.

"I don't even mind that you are not speaking , really, but how many times do I have to tell you that you can sleep? I'm not going to hurt you." She paused for a moment, where she glanced at the broken mirrors, and spoke carefully again.

"You look horrible and I mean it. Those bags under your eyes do not suit you."

The comment panged her already wounded ego even if she imagined she looked quite horrible, but that wasn't what made her finally speak.

She had just started trembling when she closed her eyes in a weak attempt of ignoring her, swallowing difficultly. Chelsea then compared her to a fresh newborn, incompetent and unwilling to control his thirst. Her mind was a scattered uniformity of streaming thoughts, all of them linking vaguely.

Curses for everything she had come to known in a ridiculously short amount of time almost invaded her mind in it's complete extent, if not for the fleeting coherent thoughts about the possible reasons the Volturi might have had for making her chase her own insanity. Because she was sure they were testing her will to make it to the coven by commonly rescheduling her death, and she was failing miserably. She knew it, but she was busy limiting her rage on her mind to think about it fully; paranoia _is _contagious.

Breathing heavily, her chest rising up and down at a disturbing pace, she continued with her struggle as Chelsea watched her without really seeming what to do, limiting herself to watch her with a composed face.

_Not too long…Not too long…_

Amelie could not quite convince herself, but her poor self soothing was all she had left.

She did not recognize what was real and what was product of her sick mind, the one that liked to be weak because it had already perceived too much. Because of this, she had not noticed she said her internal mumbling out loud, the words escaping her lips too jumbled to be understood by a human.

The honey-haired woman made no comment about her progress, but she was satisfied with her own efforts. Seeing her state, Chelsea decided to do her worst at soothing her. She could only do her worst; she had been tasting so much human blood, she doubted she could find such instincts in the monster she had become. The vampire doesn't really minds.

"Not long." Chelsea said carefully, yearning for eye contact. Amelie's stare, that was not quite full of sorrow, but of some indescribable feeling she had not experienced before and that intrigued her, was directed at the window.

"Can't somebody else do it? I want this to be over already!" Here cries were almost childish. Chelsea took pity on her, disappointed as she saw in her eyes bitter resentment molding perfectly with the necessity to feel alive. Amelie noticed this, and she hates pity, so she looked away, feeling crystalline tears numb her vision.

"I would have too, but the Master likes to watch suffering. Jane has been laughing her ass off about you all this time. Don't let her." Chelsea's voice turned stern, and Amelie asks herself when all of this became her fault, thought that enrages her already out of control mind.

"_It's not like I can kill her! _I will slap that dodgy bitch so hard when I get the chance, though…"

Chelsea took one long stride towards her bed, pushing her with only one hand without really wanting to hurt her, and her body was so weak, she falls.

"For now, you will have to hold on. Sleep."

"I won't, don't you understand!? You won't stay, and there's so much people that would gladly drink me dry for things I have done, that I don't really have fault of in the first place, like Jane, for just making it to Volterra, like that doctor, like Felix for my stupid ignorance…"

Chelsea then had to put her hand on Amelie's mouth to voice her thoughts and stop hers.

"What happened with Felix…?"

Hadn't Afton told her?

"I did not know you could burn. And he was being sleazy, reminding me so much of that bastard…and the cigarette's smoke must have gone to my head, who already is falling into madness…" Chelsea had to blink twice before drying the tears that were falling aimlessly of Amelie's dark eyes with her cool fingertips. Her tears made Chelsea felt, though, like she was failing to fulfill her task of keeping Amelie healthy.

"Shussh. Stop. They'll hear you. Nothing's private in here, so stop weeping like a child."

"I'm sorry. I'm so-"

"Stop it. Be a grown woman and take responsibilities for your actions."

Amelie then tried to control her sobs, which were embarrassingly loud. After a long moment of silence, her sobs stopped, and her mind wandered everywhere again, recalling past conversations she once had with Chelsea. Amelie whispers, because she knows she can hear her…

"You were right…this _is _purgatory…" Her voice seems dazed and lifeless, but Chelsea could not ignore the memories her changing brought.

"Transformation will be Hell."

"Are you trying to help? Because you are doing a fucking bad job…"Amelie's fit of rage made it's presence known, but it sounded odd in her weak voice.

"Truth soothes. Even if it destroys you first."

Then there was silence, because it was the only thing Chelsea could afford to give Amelie: privacy. After telling Amelie her food was getting even colder, and that it was the only thing she was allowed to give her on the day, she got up the bed shockingly gracefully and momentarily distracted she added, "Carlisle is coming."

"Is he…?"

"In fact, he's already here."

Amelie sighed once before Chelsea touched the doorknob.

**Author's Note**: Thanks to everyone who subscribed to my story. That's worth 10 reviews, and it makes me glow like a pregnant lady. A big _massive _thank you.

Thanks to Kopri, who beta-read this chapter, and who stands my psycho writing ways (and readers will understand this two chapters in the future, so **don't tune out!**).

Review me and get a preview? If anyone cares, anyway.

_-Mia._


	8. Choice, Mercy & Away We Go

_I hate that Dakota Fanning is on plain sight at those New Moon posters. Aro is complaining about being the center of attention and not getting it!_

_Thanks always to _**Kopri**_, for beta-reading. I really don't know how you can stand me, but we are golden._

* * *

Chapter 8

**Choice, Mercy & Away We Go**

"May I ask about the mirrors?" The blonde doctor asked after checking the healing of her leg with the strangest of puzzled tones, because his flawless face was specially troubled that day. Amelie noted this as she played lazily with her food, thinking about a home made apple pie, like the ones her past neighbor used to make. She used to steal those too.

Thinking about them led to imagining them as she chew a piece of some awfully cold pancakes. Amelie wasn't even sure it was the right time to eat pancakes in the first place, but she took what she could, even if those pancakes were not as nearly as tasteful as the pie she was imagining them to be.

Amelie answered Carlisle's wonder as nonchalantly as she could.

"I'm not obsessed with my beauty or anything, but I do not specially like to see the Hunchback of Notre Dame on my reflection when there is so much gorgeous people surrounding me. Only _you _can rock the eye bags. So, I choose no reflection at all." Her words were meant to sound nonchalant, yet her bitterness broke through her voice. For some reason, she was always genuine with Carlisle. And she hated it.

The room got cold as a stunning silence filled it. The spoon in her hand was trembling slightly, by instinct, so she put it down taking a bite of the pancake instead. Carlisle was just struggling for words that would put his despair on a coherent thought. Their eyes met, and she felt on the need to ask about his eyes to break the unbearable silence, sounding almost childish doing so.

"Why are your eyes so beautiful? It's barely fair."

"I don't drink human blood." He smiled forcefully at her query, dryly amused at her attempt to establish a conversation.

Amelie found herself wondering what kind of blood besides human there was. She almost smacked herself at the doubt. "Animal blood, then?" She guessed, tilting her head in confusion. It almost did not make sense to her. Why would you change the tenderness of human skin for an animal? Her thoughts were lazily wild, and she blamed the lack of sleep; Amelie was suddenly wondering what kind of animal he drank. Maybe it could be a furry one, like a bear, or a raspy one, like a snake…

Because she was lost in her internal rambling, Carlisle decided to offer her his reasons, perhaps opening a path for her to take if he actually did change her. He wanted to believe the girl had some kind of soul he could guide through this life, which he could save. But Carlisle was no God, and he couldn't give salvation; he knew being oblivious to this had always been his fatal flaw.

"It does not exactly relieve the conscience but… it sets me free of the guilt of taking someone away from their family. I have a family too." He sounded almost nervous, and Amelie caught on his explanation that he wasn't just justifying his way of survival, but apologizing for his actions too, not necessarily ones that had already been committed.

The fragility of the human was corrupting his purposes, and he was just not made to make others suffer, but Amelie knew Carlisle was going to do her wrong since the first moment they locked eyes. Chelsea had also made her understand.

"And that's what you are here for." It wasn't a question, but it wasn't a statement either, and it sounded blank, almost as if she was blaming him for her misery even though she couldn't.

"I have a family to take care of. Your death does not exactly secure them, but it might… help."

Words that tasted bitter, almost blood like on his mouth left his conscience aching for relief. Choosing to ignore the truth was better than facing it, where you were on its mercy, bound to be hurt, and Carlisle needed to embrace his decision, even if he felt unworthy to even kiss the ground Amelie or anyone walked on by accepting Aro's offer.

Amelie could only wonder what possible wrong could the Cullen family have done to deserve an eternity of her position; her position, because one mistake could end her life as easily as it could give her never ending and untouchable glory. She pushed her food aside almost painfully, because she had just lost her appetite, and she knew she was going to get it back soon, mumbling her next words.

"I've been selfish enough to know how this works." And Carlisle seemed offended at her choice of life—or lack there of.

"But I have not! I will not commit such atrocity, condemning you, a perfectly healthy and wonderful human being to this life for my own selfish purposes! I do not believe that is on my hands, or my judgment."

Carlisle silenced her with his sudden rage, and she just frowned, almost hurt.

"But… I _am _torn on the decision of saving my family or saving you." His face held such misery, she compared him to those tortured Catholics she used to see on church, begging for redemption, whispering hushed prayers while looking to a crucified Jesus Christ, who couldn't really talk back, who never did.

She always watched them closely, not bothering to pay attention to the priest's heavily pronounced words—because from a young age she has known her ending couldn't be any good—until her mother, with a rosary on her hands just on church, told her to look away sternly. It was impolite to stare.

She couldn't blame anybody or anything for her fate. Maybe that same Jesus she always questioned, but she knew he had no fault either; she deserved to die.

She wasn't even really dying anyway, and she found this quite…odd.

Carlisle, who was as selfish as anyone else but just a few scales lesser, was troubled with the decision of killing her to save his family, which made him _almost _good, because he was still killing her, even if the term was relative.

But she doesn't think she entirely minds.

The more she thought about Monica's wishes, the more human she seemed, and the more she compared herself to her. It was only human the thirst for power. It was only human to evade death, the yearning to not only feel, but to actually _be _superior. It was only human the want for such a trivial thing as fitting in.

And as Amelie realized she was just a human who had been given the opportunity to get everything the power thirsty race wanted, she recognized herself as exactly the person she hated.

But it was usual in her to ignore common sense.

"I think you are doing the right thing, if there is such." She couldn't stop the most masochistic of smiles on her thin, perfectly formed lips.

"I don't know what having a normal family, normal being relative in here, feels like. I don't know if Chelsea told you, but I was about to commit suicide when Jane and Demetri found me. I did not have the will to live." By instinct, her mind played the abortion procedure too fast to be coherent, but awfully slow to the heartless mind that had seen it way too times to be healthy. "I-I really still don't. But I don't think I have the will to end my own life either; I'm too much of a coward, and death was what got me here in the first place…

"I'm just a fool who brought death to herself even when vampires were not around. I deserve to die. I might not like it. I'm sure I won't. But I don't think I have a choice now, as much as it enrages you to know the blunt truth we can not really escape, because it has been there all along."

She hadn't realized her words were barely whispers, taking her aback, because her human senses snuck in there in the most undesirable way, making her sound weak. Carlisle was not facing Amelie but her vanity, and suddenly breaking mirrors did not seem such a great idea after all.

The doctor was not really thinking about the human's words; he was too lost on his own mind, thinking about millions of things on every individual minute of the four that took her to talk. His internal voice mostly debated about the reasons that have gotten him, _them, _in the position they were all in. He had to make the decisions for them all, him, patriarch of the Cullen Family. Carlisle could make the wrong one or he could make the right one, but he couldn't really tell the difference between both.

He was scared, and he was torn, and he was breaking…

He could admit it shamelessly even to the human in front of him. The decision was cracking him open, tearing him apart, and he was sure the wound his self disgust would cause wouldn't heal properly if she did not survive the pain he was inflecting upon her, by changing her. He doubted said wound would even heal at all.

He had learned from his mistakes, but was he willing to commit them again to save his family?

Yes he was. Was he regretting it later?

An entire second since his sharp teeth would grace her skin, savoring her blood, an indulgence he had given up centuries ago, wouldn't be fast enough for him to feel the entirety of a will breaking guilt.

His thoughts were interrupted by Amelie's idle voice, sensing his train of thought.

"It's odd how they control everything, isn't it? They don't have the say on anyone's life, but somehow they think they do. I don't think I fully believe in God, but I do believe in justice. They'll get what they deserve."

He twisted his neck as she choked up her next words, noting her hesitant.

"And so will I."

Her self-blaming nature reminded him greatly of Edward.

Millions of thoughts invaded Carlisle's mind, ranging from questions to suspicions. What would his loving wife Esme think when he got back home, if he ever did? Would she forgive him? Would the entire family? Would he even tell them about the crime he was about to do? Would he be able to tame the guilt of accepting the beast he would return to be?

Would the innocent creature even survive? Was she strong enough to endure the Volturi's demands if she did? Was he? Would she cope with her new life? Her death? Did she have a loving family of her own he was taking her away from?

He doubted he had the sufficient strength to ask all of his questions, because all of them needed answers he wasn't sure he was getting.

Several questions and infinite thoughts invaded Carlisle's mind, but only one prevailed. Between all of those who seemed more attention worthy, it was odd that the one who stood out the most had been in his sub conscience all along, ignored as a trivial matter.

"_Give her choice."_

How could such simple words wrap around the thin border of life and death so many lives that they became linked to one another in desperate need for survival? How had he become the person he hated the most trying to save those that mattered?

Those words had been Alice's, whispered music only meant for his ears as she kissed his cheek goodbye. He hadn't really gave them proper time to think them over, to analyze them as every word of his daughter deserved to be; his worries about the Volturi's possible reasons to retain him to their controlled land had been invading his mind, provoking Edward to be more silent and observant than usual, listening his every thought while alerting his own mind.

Alice had been given the gift of foresee for her ability to look closely at the people around her while human, comprehending their predictable actions more than what she needed at her young age. She knew they wouldn't understand the strange visions she was getting when her heart always spluttered out of control, but she was vivacious, and she fully believed on the potential the human mind really had, encouraged by her own. So she told her secret to her sister Cynthia, and she swore to never tell anyone; her sister's kind nature eventually betrayed them both, leading Cynthia to seek help from her parents to cure the disease she believed was corrupting her dear sister's always vivid mind, even though Alice's mind was clearer than ever.

And when brilliant people tell the truth, they end up in a straight jacket. Alice was no exception.

Of course Alice had seen what was waiting for Carlisle on Volterra. Her visions must have been changing an unnatural speed as his final decision was not fully chosen, probably causing her a headache, added to the already painful presence of Renesmee and the wolves. His guilt increased as he thought about this, if that was even possible.

"You don't understand. There are so much more aspects about accepting this life than eternal existence, aspects the human mind does not even begins to comprehend. The thirst is just uncontrollable…"

"So? You dealt with them." The volatile creature inside of him roared to life, suddenly too close to her, penetrating her dark eyes as if in that way she could understand what she was agreeing to.

"_I'm three hundred and seventy two years old and it's just not that simple!"_

The revelation did not take her aback completely; because Chelsea had already told her vampires could live for an eternity. As soon as he had said that, though, she was wondering how old could Chelsea herself really be?

Carlisle knew he had lost the humans mind train of thought when she looked away from his intense and incomprehensible rage filled gaze, after admiring his inviting eyes for the fleetest of seconds. He had to look away from her and control himself, because his unnecessary ragged breaths—reaction he hadn't noticed until now—were telling her that he could hurt her in any irrational moment. Carlisle did not want her to believe that would be possible, even though he knew he would betray his own wishes as soon as he had desired them.

He felt his common sense being thrown out of the window he was suddenly breaking with his ridiculous strength in one fluid motion.

"What _bloody _thing are you doing?"

"Giving you your last chance to escape."

Then the sun hit him full in the face and he took her breath away. He really was a self-destructive angel as his beautiful face glittered, as if millions of beautifully shaped diamonds that threw the most curious of rainbows to some crushed mirrors on the floor were crusted onto his skin.

But as much as it was beautiful, it was laughably odd.

"I don't think that would work." She said, almost in a daze, still unable to tare away her eyes of the rarity in front of her. She was almost dying of curiosity to touch him.

"We both would escape." That finally brought her out of her dazzled state as reality sunk in once again.

"You are being irrational. Chelsea will throw the door down, drag me back and kill me herself." She said, finally dropping her gaze of the vampire to play shyly with her chastity white blankets, hiding her frustration on a mask of intimidation, because she knew he was talking nonsense.

"Chelsea is right outside this door, and she has heard every word I've said."

All of her out of control thoughts came to a sudden and painful stop. Chelsea had agreed to this? She had put on the plate her own head to save Amelie's?

It was one of the most outrageous absurdities she had heard in the full month she had spent living with v_ampires_, who were just a foolish myth days ago, but that were now her most real nightmare and fate.

That was what Carlisle was offering, what he would offer. Choice. Just as Chelsea had, both of them saw something in her enough to risk their own life to save hers. Amelie couldn't even begin to think about what could that 'something' possibly be, and she did not want to know either. What Amelie couldn't see clearly, though, was that she had not been wrong about everybody looking for their own interests, because they offered her salvation of the most approximate danger in her life to save something of their own, even if that did not include them.

She could say she genuinely thought about choosing to escape on a fraction of a minute, her human instincts attacking her all at once, but very weakly, not giving her enough time or encouragement to go through her perfectly sane and untouched part of her mind. That part sneaked in on her sentence, just in the worst way to do it.

"They'll know, and they'll chase us. They'll kill us. _Really _kill us." _Not that is _that _hard to kill _me_…_

Carlisle knew they were all dying sooner or later, but his hope on keeping his conscience on the eerie state it had been all these years was something he just couldn't ignore to choose, or offer, because it was all up to the girl now. Amelie had the final choice on her life, as she deserved, as she was having, as he should have given it to his now family members when the moment came for them.

"Do it now, or you are agreeing to this absurdity."

"Absurdity is what you are offering. You know it wouldn't be possible, as much as you want me to escape this fate that's imminent."

Carlisle thought of her words for some full and agonizing three minutes. He had broken the bars of the window that kept her from escaping because she hadn't had the strength or time to think about a solution to break them before; she wouldn't have been successful anyway with so many vampires around her. The bars were aside, and they had broken all the big pieces of mirrors left on the floor. They were not of use now, because Carlisle closed both polished wood doors of the windows with such force, she highly doubted she could break those too, the final noise they made adorning her uncontrollable heartbeats.

Carlisle faced her, no longer sparkling, and his face was as miserable as before.

"Then, I'm so, so sorry." Then he did something unexpected to her, but she guesses that it must have been common when he was human; he kissed her hand, a single butterfly kiss barely touching her pale skin that had no comparison to his. His kiss, somehow, was significantly different than Aro's, because Aro's had been welcoming her to the coven while Carlisle was apologizing. It was also more inviting, gentler.

He was not apologizing because he could not change her, but because he would, and for some reason, even though it was what she had pushed him to do, she felt guilty. Guilty was a light word; to describe more accurately the strange lump on her throat, and the sudden painfully cold wave through her heart, she would have to be the courageous being she knew she wasn't, so she canalizes it the way everybody else does. She cries.

She was not sure why, because it was everything, yet nothing, of what she hoped her life turned out to be: something stable, even if it meant something as insanely unbelievable as turning into a vampire. Yet, Amelie hasn't been more scared in her life as she tries to drown the sound of her sobs with her hands, unexplainable tears flowing slowly, struggling to leave her closed dark eyes.

***********

It wasn't until three hours later that Carlisle returned to her piece, in a state more grimly and sober than before. His eyes were considerably lighter, though, and more beautiful. Amelie's were swollen, and they hurt, because it was almost as if her skin couldn't stretch, paralyzed by dry tears.

He had also come with a leather black antique bag of sorts. She doesn't thinks she has seen one of those before, but she well knows its purpose.

Amelie watched him carefully, her eye lids closing slightly; on what sleeping was concerned, she was reaching her breaking point. On everything, if she was being truthful; wondering how much she could take was not helping the cause either. Dazed by the accusing sleep, and overwhelmed by her former decision, she just limited herself to watch Carlisle's every action without much interest, fighting again with her sleeping habits. When he took out a pair of finger sized needles, though, her heart rate picked up, her eyes widened considerably, the sleep gone to the back of her already tired mind.

"What do you need the shot for?" She mumbled, ready to cry at any second.

"Morphine will help to numb the pain." At least that was what had happened with his daughter, Bella. That's what Carlisle's knows on the matter, and Bella has done nothing to change his mind, which might just get Amelie out of control if she knew. She does not, of course, but she knows better than to trust a doctor after having a six day abortion.

"_Might _doesn't fully secures us it will. No needles for me."

"But…"

Chelsea was a silent soul, and her entrances were as unpredictable as her way to be. She appeared out of nowhere, Amelie decided, so she doesn't have to think it over, because her head hurts of so many tears. She wants to thank her lucky stars, even though they were doing an awfully bad job in the first place, because Chelsea manages to convince Carlisle otherwise and her eyelids become heavy again. Sleep wants to embrace her, and she doesn't think she cares.

"She hasn't had the greatest experiences with needles. No needles." Her tone is poised, and Amelie imagines she already got in trouble with her husband, but the sacrifice she made just hours ago couldn't be easily ignored, so Amelie shifts her head a little, and because she's not in complete control of her body, it goes all the way. She doesn't care.

Carlisle just made a thin, hard line with his lips, his tired eyes narrowing slightly.

"Hey, you. We are having a talk after this is over." Chelsea blinks once before gaining her spotless façade again, reaching Carlisle instead but dismissing her first, her voice cold and stern.

"You'll forget."

Amelie tried to follow her with her gaze. When she realized she couldn't, she tried to move her head, but she gave up when the weight was too much for her already broken spirit to hold. Her voice still sounded childish.

"Why would I forget about that?" She sounded almost hurt, and Carlisle almost smiled.

"Forgetting will do you good."

"You won't be sleeping for days; I strongly recommend you some sleep."

"It's not like that will change." She still closed her eyes, rolling on the bed so her body just faced her sheets and nothing else; no mirrors, no fancy furniture, no vampires, no horrible future, not even more horrible pain. It had been so long since she had a full hour of sleep, it seemed extremely alluring. She decided to close her eyes. Sure. She could give her body that. The faint clicking sounds the metal tools made were hard to ignore, though.

Carlisle and Chelsea were speaking on hushed tones, barely intelligible even to themselves, but suddenly, Chelsea's annoyance broke through her composure.

"Why will it be longer?"

Amelie could hear Carlisle now.

"It's only coherent. She's too healthy to be changed on three days."

"Healthy? She's as skinny as Heidi, as fragile-looking as Jane." Chelsea could feel her own composed anger boiling inside of her. She just needed to remember her purpose, one that did not involved the human's accommodations what so ever.

"She still has her heart pumping to a bizarre rate." Even though Carlisle was trying to keep his voice neutral and steady, her heartbeat was palpable on his ears, and on his mind, just on the base of his throat. It wasn't tempting, because he had lost his ability to feel—really feel—every bit of the acid quality blood had many years ago, but his mouth still produced the smallest amount of venom in anticipation of the indulgence he was about to give in on, on the atrocity he was about to commit; his buried monster was bouncing in the most distorting of joys.

"I can hear you…" Amelie interrupted, her voice muffled by the pillow sounding like a crooked chime.

Both vampires ignored her.

"I give her four days. At most five." His medical tone finally kicked in when he had obligated himself to do so.

Then there was silence, and they could only hear Amelie's subtle sobs coming in slow pace, too quiet for a human to hear. Chelsea almost felt inclined to tell Amelie that _'everything would be okay'_, but she really couldn't or wouldn't; her pride would suffer a major hit. Besides, Chelsea had not had someone to say that to her: she didn't hear word at all when she needed it the most. She would make the human just as strong as her.

Before closing the door, she softly spoke to him.

"Don't let her convince you otherwise." Carlisle slightly wondered if she had inflicted her gift on him.

Amelie heard the door close with a swift bang and like that, she and her executer were alone. Another broken, louder sob; hot tears she tried to wipe off on the pillow.

Carlisle tried to be in his most business like manner, concentrating on the medical part of the act he was about to commit, but he could never get himself to think of taking a life away in such cold-hearted way, even if that was just what he needed. It would be deceiving all he stood up for, and Carlisle would be betraying the doctrine he had taught his family in the most hypocrite of ways, the family he was doing it all for.

Just once, he wondered if it was even worth it in the first place. But that one time was enough for him to think _he _was the one unworthy of having such wonderful beings as family, even though he had always think this way.

Yet the doubt had invaded his mind, and coming back home never seemed like such a lie.

_God, what have I become…?_

Amelie couldn't quite bring herself to face the doctor either, because not only was she facing the most beautiful creature she had seen, but she would be witnessing every step it took to end her life. It was excruciating.

Carlisle could sense her hesitation, and he mistakenly passes it for fear to the pain. He just wants to make it all better, and Amelie remembers he's a doctor because it seems like she has forgotten, but he couldn't put a band-aid on her damaged soul. He just would make her find the inner beast in her, the one that had denied coming out at all, despite her hard exterior. Now she had reasons for being the monster she was meant to be since the moment she herself ended a life. Almost overwhelmed by the sudden fast pace of her former lazy thoughts, she rolls on her back, seeking light, perhaps some clarity, trying carefully to avoid his gaze so he couldn't see the liquid form of pain.

Her efforts are useless, for he surprises her by his sudden closeness: Carlisle is right besides her, with all his medical platinum instruments neatly organized on a table nearby. She slightly wonders what they could be for, if he only needed his teeth to get it over with…

"Do you still feel in the need to decline the morphine?"

Carlisle wouldn't look at her, even though privacy was exactly what she wanted. It has hit her then, hard on the most cognitive part of her mind with some sort of sanity left as the doctor refused to look at her.

She was going to die.

It was funny really, how many times she had thought of this in a few weeks.

Death.

_Death. Death. Death._ For such a level of complexity, it wasa ridiculously short word. Death. The word itself was quite hard to digger, like burn flavor on the tip of the tongue. The end of everything humanity was, involving so much myths and beliefs that the human mind had come up to explain their existence—because humans tend to like the feeling being needed brings. In the lips of someone who didn't truly know how death was really like those five letters sounded so empty. Nobody knew, yet they tried to seek an explanation for that too—because humans are also too curious for their own well being.

Some say death is easy, those being clearly human. Death is easy, yes, yet it is also exhausting for those who will never see it.

And Amelie, being so close to death, had never wanted a way out so much.

"Do it. Do it fast, and do it now."

Right there, the doctor broke, because he knew Amelie meant exactly the opposite of what she was saying. It had been hard enough to think of her death as a deal as it was ridiculously difficult to ignore her tears when the time came to materialize it.

"I'm not going to lie; this might be your death. If it isn't, it's going to hurt. _Badly_." He still wouldn't look at her. "Yet this is what you chose."

"Yes, blame it on me later. But do it _now_."

Carlisle stopped working to the objects he had brought, closing his eyes for the longest of minutes, whispering unintelligible words for Amelie; hushing prayers, she later understood.

Before she could think about it, he spoke, his medical tone as tangible as her tears. Somehow, it made her upcoming death more real, more horrifying. She couldn't bear her exasperation.

"You will have to induce self-vomit, otherwise you will throw up during the transformation period and it might be inconvenient." He was now watching her dark orbs intently, scrutinizing them. "During the changing, you will have an exceedingly high fever, so if you experience hallucinations, it will be perfectly normal. You might have the urge to scream, but please do not; your cords will probably break and it will take longer for the venom to end its curse through your body."

After his stare parted ways with hers, he added, "I will induce venom in your neck, your wrists and your ankles. This might help to fasten up the process. It might also hurt just a fraction more."

"I haven't had proper food in days. Just please…"

She swallowed her own pride, and it never seemed harder, because she could count the times she had done this before.

"…I'm _begging _you. Do it _now_."

And he did just what she asked for, removing the dark hair from her neck, caressing her delicate face softly before aiming for her throat violently, holding her in place as she screamed in a well formed fusion of sour surprise and life-ending agony.

_Death shall never claim you._

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Lots of odds and really's…Kind of my signature, besides the eleven stars for luck. This chapter came out…heavy to read. Mh. Somebody disagrees?_

_I actually had to split this chapter on two. An event that needs to happen couldn't happen because of the hefty length of this chappie. Twelve pages are a big deal to me, I had been writing about nine. If I did post the chapter on its entirety, it would have been about seventeen pages long. _

_And, nope. I'm not that crazy yet._

_I'll just get out of your lives now. _

_**Review=preview**__._

-Love, Mia.


	9. Godly Disintegration

_I'm playing a bit with canon in here. I did not mention that on the past chapter, in which I manipulated some facts that totally did not work on my favor; Stephenie Meyer was bananas if she thought I was going to believe those._

_**This chapter is **__**Rated M**__ for the use of un-ladylike language, almost-sex, violence (which is just really harmless fun), and the ridiculously awesome amount of blood involved, which is not that much. =( I kept it light, though, with some mockery of my own and a slight Breaking Points Canon mention. I couldn't help it, Lupe. _

_Salud. Cheers. Mojitos._

Disclaimer: _Twilight is not mine, yet the plot of this story, the characters of Amelie Birgminham, Priscilla, a few names of the Volturi, and now Sandra, Bob, and Gina Murray are. _

_(Oh, and if you see some errors, this one is unbeated. Malfunctions, malfunctions, Forrest Gump.)_

* * *

Chapter 9

**Godly Disintegration**

Sometimes Heidi and Felix get paired up together to finish the rounds of guarding the halls. Heidi finds this useless, since Volterra's streets were full of a knowing silence at night; human's instincts were smart, yet not smart enough to stay away from the castle also by day, in which strolls were more necessary. She did not complain on either. Sometimes it's with a partner, but everyone knows the only thing Heidi and Felix try to finish is the never ending desire, which can not be controlled or stopped, especially not by a witness.

"_Ahhh_…" His big hand curled around her neck as if he was going to strangle her, pushing her roughly onto the wall instead, repeating the action once again before capturing her mouth while his lower body made constant friction with hers.

He loved to do this on the humans he fucked over; the thrill of having another being he could brake so easily—_especially _a woman—gave him enough of a challenge to enjoy. He needed to be gentle enough to please them, violent enough to kill them just the way he liked it: in the entire opposite way. Usually they found his violent antics _hot _until their visions got hazy, their heads swelling, the contrast of the beautiful crimson liquid against his fingertips so lovely…Felix wasn't able to maintain his control after that.

The only thing lovelier than blood was Heidi, and with her, things were entirely different, yet the same shade of the beautiful burgundy his screwed up mind was. Felix wasn't entirely sure if he liked it that way, but he still went for the gold every time he could because her need for him was so primal, he could afford to turn tables and challenge _her_. Handling her was enough of a challenge; he didn't feel the need for blood to link them in any kind of way, even if it did.

And even though Felix has done it before, she still moaned in surprise at his sudden move. Felix can't reserve his glee to himself, the sound of the dent-worthy impact of her head on the brick wall almost euphoric.

Heidi let a moan of pleasure escape her thin lips as Felix sank his teeth on the base of her throat, placing lustful kisses in that same spot, trailing them down her neck. There was no need to do it, but he still watched both sides of the hall before scooping the beauty

on the nearest decoration table, Heidi approving his idea by wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Someone is…ahh…eager today." Heidi managed to say, as she closed her eyes on pleasure, gripping his back tighter to get him closer, while Felix pushed her head on the wall one last time before his hands moved to do wonders in more tender places, traveling up an down her thighs with poorly contained desire. As he proceeded to respond, he moved onto working on her ear, licking and biting all the cold skin he could.

"Can't blame me…" He licked her earlobe, laughing slightly at her reaction, because he knew the effects his laugh had on women. "…if the company is worth ravishing…"

Touching the back of her thighs, he pulled her closer to him by the hips, Heidi slightly thrusting in victory, because she was a tease, and she knew Felix loved it. She exceeds his expectations every single time, on different ways. _Oh, you wicked lovely, Heidi._

"Right. Now."

Heidi smirked before taking his face with a force that could have shattered human bones and smashing her lips with his in the same bruising fashion, rewarding his compliment.

After all, Felix perfectly knew his way around Heidi to take what they both needed: it was all about her. And he took what he did because it was what it was: spurs of the moment of equally attractive eternal beings that did not expect some kind of attachment to come with the meaningless quenched thirst.

God, he loved this woman.

"You are perfect…so fucking perfect." Felix fervently whispered like a prayer—because she was something worth worshipping—as Heidi's hand went through his hair, neck and back, his lips tracing circles and patterns back and forth on her collarbone and breasts, fooling around with her mood. He contemplated using fire as a form of fun torture (perhaps straight out entertainment?) when the thought reminded him of a deed that needed to be out of the way.

That little human bitch.

"Too bad it won't happen." He said elongating the popping noise on the 'p', thrusting harder, on last time before Heidi could throw her fit, biting her earlobe in a spur of the moment. He wanted to hurt her; the only thought made him grin with hungry eyes. Now he wasn't so sure of who the recipient of violence was going to be, though.

She shoved him away roughly, speaking through gritted, sharp teeth the same way. He had to smirk in triumph. Now she was going to hurt him, and nothing excited his whole being more than violence.

"What the _hell_?"

"Well, I _do _love it when you get feisty…"

She tugged his almost un-existing hair as hard as she could, his head falling backwards, his

beautiful laugh making echo in the hall.

"Well, I hate it when you get so stupid, Felix! No wonder you were so happy if you were shagging that bitch after seducing me."

He loved how she thought so highly of herself she had to use an upscale term instead of the simple 'shagging'. He knew who she was referring to, because with them it was always the same thing: Felix could screw every damned woman on Earth, yet he couldn't shag the secretary or any member of the coven.

Needless to say, it was always what he went for.

"It's not the human, woman, it's the soon to be one of us." He explained as a poor apology, fighting the urge to take her right there.

That took her completely aback, though, her voice lower, almost whispering in confusion; her tone still with hidden suspicion under it.

"Amelia?" She asked looking at his eyes.

"I'm not sure that's quite her name…"He tilted his head in his own confusion, his gaze never apart from her wet and inviting lips. Heidi's hand moved from his hair to the nape of his neck in an attempt to bring him closer, her perfected husky voice talking for her as her free hand tugged the collar of his cloak.

"Who cares, finish this and I might let you go…"

"Not a chance. We will have celebration sex afterwards." He offered as Heidi gave up. It was his loss, anyway.

"What exactly are you planning to do?" His gaze was entirely fixed on her breasts, which inflated her ego a few more scales. She was fixing the wrinkles of his cloak when she decided against it; maybe Veronica and any bitch that got in his way could take it as a warning. Perhaps not. She was hoping for the latter option.

"Something… that I won't enjoy nearly as much as kissing every bit of that perfect body of yours."

He was on her neck again, going even more south than before, as if to prove his point. Lying was not exactly his expertise, because he was more of a straight forward man, but Heidi wouldn't get over herself as long as she lived, so he told her just what she wanted to hear. Getting even was lightning years beyond amazing sex with her. He keeps that to himself, because if those words left his lips, he _wouldn't _have sex in lighting years.

"Obviously." She said.

And just when Felix had managed to get her already ripped tights out of the way, a sharp mirror-shattering scream filled the air.

"My god, that girl can scream…What a turn off." Heidi sighed on frustration, biting her lip in a very human-like fashion

"That's my cue to leave."

"Go get even, love." Heidi whispered mockingly.

Heidi didn't watch him go even if she could feel the smirk on his delicious lips—not more than hers, of course—but took herself up, fixed her skirt, tights behind, and decided she needed another human toy to play with, leaving the castle to fish, but this time, just for herself.

***********

The human body is fragile, but God knew what he was doing when he designed men and blew life into it. Or so they say.

Still, it's _so _fragile.

Yes, God knew _exactly _what he was doing. He was making sure death could surprise you in some turn your miserable life took without you getting a hint. Then, he had a sadistic humor when the victim did know before hand his due date, which delighted him, because that's usually when they start begging.

Sometimes he's more easy on the people that paid some respect to him, though, which results in the many ways there is to die. Those are less painful than others, yet they all have the same goal: end your life. Stop it. He will make something go wrong, your body can't take it, and you just _die_. Burnt, drowned, cancers of all types, squished, decapitated, cerebral death, strokes, intoxication, depression, suicide, while sleeping…

Many ways to die.

Those that do not fear death hadn't been able to seen it before their eyes. They should.

Time is a whole other issue when it comes to this. It's fleeting when you least want it to, and sometimes it gets too slow in the most inconvenient moments, almost stuck on its track, and you are sure is just to mock you, to show you how much power it has above you, to show you you are nothing if it's cut short or the other way around. Just to show you who you are without him: nothing.

Amelie suffered, and apart from the babies who haunted her rarely achieved sleep and needles, time was the thing she hated the most. She had never been really patient, as things went most of the times her way, but there where things she couldn't control, things she usually just skept over on the past—like school, like her pregnancy, like any responsibility at all—but that couldn't really escape now, because there was no way to do it as much as she prayed, as much as attempts at suicide she tried to commit.

Like her death, right in front of her, just the way God liked them.

She managed to whisper a split-second 'Please' before Amelie could have sworn she saw Carlisle's already sharp teeth get even bigger as he aimed for her throat, but her vision was blurry with tears, so she couldn't exactly tell the difference. She closed her eyes out of instinct as she felt a cold sharp jab, hot tears streaking down her face, her voice a surprised squeal as Carlisle greedily sucked into her neck.

At first it was warm, almost hot-cocoa-warm; a warmth so inviting she didn't see the reason behind the description of the outrageous pain they had warned her about. Maybe it was a little _too _warm on the spot he had bitten, she would give Chelsea that. She could still feel everything around her; the stiff position of Carlisle on top of her, the sudden withdrawal of his mouth on her neck, his blonde hair tickling her momentarily as he did so.

Thoughts came pouring from everywhere just like blood, her brain instinctively thinking of what was coming next for her. _As if she could do something. _

There's nothing glamorous about death. Why should it be glamorous? It's death. You die. _Worms eat your brain if you are not lucky enough to be burnt to ashes that can be later thrown into the sea, as if the water isn't infected enough with our shit. _

You are done. We hear nothing about you, specially if you did nothing while you lived, and people die all the time. People who remain alive don't really care anymore. She can't blame them. We all come and go, and we are just the same.

What really changes? Nothing does. For every human's death, there's twice the birth.

That's when she remembers why vampire's were above them. They can't give birth. Lucky bitches, indeed.

By now, her throat was on fire, and she couldn't think straight, so her mind just shut up. She wasn't certain if it was her mind, or her own voice.

Her hand was at her neck, trying to soothe the pain in a stupid way, when it got taken away almost too gently to be in a death grip the next moment. The burning sensation on her neck was just like a needle—make that ten—hot, and uncomfortable, the initial pun unexpected, but bearable, the liquid from hell hot on the veins, poisoning the body with the most subtle and destructive type of pain: the feeling of flames all up your body, your bones, and your soul. All charred to ashes, if they weren't already, and couldn't be put out, because it wasn't really there, yet it was so real, the abortion had nothing on it.

As Carlisle bit the wrist he had been holding, Amelie reflexively took her free hand to hit him and stop the now serious pain on both her wrist, _and_ _oh god_, her throat but something stopped her that wasn't herself; another body. Probably Chelsea, or who knows, vampires had so much abilities, maybe it was Carlisle 'pulling an octopus' on her. Amelie could have cared less; she fought against it too, this time with both of her legs, who weren't numb enough yet. They were hard to control because her concentration was fixated on whimpering as loud as her lungs permitted her pain, unconsciously hurting the doctor in ways than any hit could not.

The pain became just unbearable when Carlisle had to put down her leg on the bed to bite it with such force, he broke her femur on the process, which just added to the pain of her previously hurt knee, and the already tedious burning. She heard something in a feminine voice that sounded like a _'…this would not have happened…'_, but she was so tired, she felt like passing out, so she did not really give in to the voice. This was one of those times were she just needed time to run out.

She was ready to die. _Damn it_, even if she wasn't ready, why couldn't somebody just kill her already!?

When the flames got straight out of hell-hot, she didn't need any convincing to know this was what had been coming for her all along. She deserved it.

She obligated her brain to think about something else rather than the body-consuming pain, but all her thoughts were around it: the scales of the pain (from one to ten, currently a fifty seven), or the comparisons to it. The burning was like holding ice for too long, or falling down on the pavement, ripping your skin apart, just infinite times worse. Perhaps, the ripping of every organ, every vein the body had, except the skin, and the skin was exactly what she wanted off. If she could just explode, that would had been nice too.

Amelie felt something cold grab her actual hand, and it felt nice for just a fraction of second before she felt more unbearable pain (and she slightly wondered how much she could really bare until her own scream broke every streaming thought): Chelsea had to break the bones of her fingers one by one, taking them by the finger tips and pulling them to her with unnatural strength—she must have enjoyed it. The vampire was preventing her of hurting herself more with her nails, incrusting them to her skin, and the unnecessary loss of blood was filing Chelsea's nostrils.

'_Scaphoid, lunate, triquetral, pisiform, trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate... Oops. All gone.'_

Aside from the consuming burn that was slowly dissipating (life's sweet way of showing her how much she deserved to die), her entire body felt like it could explode in any moment—and that was exactly what she wanted. It was a pain equaling the break of _every _bone in her body, not just her legs or her fingers. _God_ she wished it was just that. She couldn't move; the venom had her in place. Her fingers were the only thing that she would be able to move now, and she couldn't grip her life to the blood stained bed sheets for liberation either, because she was sure Chelsea had parted the finger bones from those on her wrist, and it hurt so much, she felt nothing at all.

Then the warmness got straight-out-of-hell-hot.

Descriptions of pain were falling short: the understatement of the century. The _change _of the century.

Tears fell aimlessly through her cheeks, but there was no really feeling behind them, because they came almost naturally, as if the body was releasing them without her consent. It was almost as if a heart wrenching rage possessed her body masked on pain and burning, showing her just how human she was, humanity she was about to leave behind.

She tried to open her eyes, but they hurt too, so they were shut against her will. She had to open them to let the tears flow more easily, though, because they were bothering as hot water, and when she did, it hurt even more than before.

Now thinking hurt, because her brain was falling slowly into a buzzing state that she swore could had been smashing it to her head's insides. That would have explained at least the numbness of her mind.

It was beyond her to stand the pain, her screams just showing what she felt.

Only would she find mild control on Chelsea's hand resting against her forehead in the fleeting seconds she remembered how to be compassionate. But now she could feel Chelsea gone; perhaps it was Carlisle who was still there.

Another hard wave of pain on her body and she has never wished for death more.

Only when she felt something on the back of her throat snap was when Amelie realized she had been screaming painfully loud all this time.

Could this get worse?

"Maybe if you don't scream, this won't hurt as much, pretty one."

She got her answer.

Amelie did what any human would, and as she tried to scream even more, her sounds sounded muffled, hoarse. Her body had lost all genuine connection to her brain, and now she acted out of instinct, which weren't very smart in her state to begin with. She quickly abandoned the idea of trying to scream, because it felt worse than actually screaming.

Unable to find words to describe the magnitude of the pain, she whimpered, obeying him because her throat couldn't stand so much pressure, and she had no chance against him now that she could not ask for help.

Her eyes were shut, and her sense were useless, numb, so she couldn't decide if this was good or bad for her. She decided she would figure it out when she arrived at hell. Maybe she could even thank him.

_Greetings from Hell, where all vampires are designed to be in. _

_Love, Amelie. _

_PS: Sorry about your tongue, mate._

Her mind was wandering and she had to stop, for she could not afford the pain thinking brought.

She knew, though, that it would be painful. She would probably cuss, cry, and pass out, most likely not in that order. Yes, that sounded very much like her.

Something cold graced her hand again, and on a wild thought, she guessed it was some hard part of Felix. That's when she thought he was probably raping her, and it did cross his mind—twice. Her own thought were interrupted by the increasing pain in her head; he had taken it with both of his hands (that covered from her chin to her hair's insides), pining it against the bed frame, the rest of her weak body following, her neck the only thing linking both. She did heard the noise of that before she could drift into unconsciousness.

As much as he loved leaving them brainless, leaving her some neurons down would have to do; Felix was causing too much noise. It would give him away, and Heidi wouldn't be able to dazzle anyone that came for too long. If he was going to make some sweet, horrid noise, it was going to have to wait.

Bones didn't do that much of a sound.

He took her hand, kissing it before bending it backwards, enjoying the almost unperceivable sound of the breaking of her veins, then forward, just to hear that sweet sound of her bones snapping, just to imagine the pool of blood coming from those veins. His mouth watered on anticipation, but he would be careful to leave messes for last.

He noticed the curious bump her arm now had, touching it in wonder before taking the bone that was sticking out with greater force, pulling it down and back. She slightly jumped.

Parting from there he caressed the rest of the skinny arm, biting the upper part of it, tugging her by the hand he was still holding, taking out of place her clavicle. Now she definitely jumped, the scream on the back of her throat. He grinned, making room for himself on the bed in between her legs.

He cupped her face, wiping of her face the hair that stick to it because of the sweat, and took her scent in.

Just that. Sweat. A tinge of coconut—coconut being a little bit of blood mixed in with the slightest amount of alcohol, and shattered bones to him. Hospital. Fresh berries, but that was hard to notice. Some sort of metallic taste he could not quite place. Death. And the oh-so-usual venom, working its way into her body. He was almost jealous it wasn't _his _venom the one killing her sweetly.

That would be about the time Heidi started humming.

_Fuck_.

On a very reckless action, he gave her a bruising kiss. He was delighted when he found dips of blood on the back of her tongue, his own invading her mouth in the search for the liquid. It was only when he heard Chelsea actually approaching that he realized he wasn't getting nearly as much satisfaction as he had come for, so he ripped off what he was flavoring, her tongue struggling to entirely fit into his mouth; his teeth begrudgingly doing nothing as he swallowed the piece whole. She woke up in a snap, her eyes widening in horror, the pain too much to keep her on the eerie state her mind had conjured to protect her from pain.

Pools of blood poured from her mouth, spilling everywhere as a stiff scream of pain worked its way up her throat. Felix was euphoric when it ended on his face, laughing out loud, savoring the aftertaste of what he had swallowed without biting. He was particularly proud about that; he would brag to Heidi later.

Her scent was not nearly as wonderful as she actually tasted. She tasted like acid; a mix of drugs with fire. Almost like copper, but just the perfect amount of some sick, sweet taste he couldn't quite identify added up to that metallic smell she had initially on her scent. Delicious.

Amelie Birmingham was a bizarre and beautiful sight. Felix loved bizarre.

The thought about making her his crossed his mind again—and, _all be damned_, he was _so _turned on.

That's when he heard Chelsea just a few steps from her door. He had forgotten about Heidi's warning.

_Mh_. Now that he was getting into trouble, maybe he could just kill her.

_Nah. _Let her suffer. Mercy is not his style. Life do with her what it wanted.

"A tongue for a tongue."

Fair. He loved justice. That was what being a Volturi was all about, what he had been taught even when he was a human. He couldn't help the grin.

"She was too loud anyway." He directed this comment to Chelsea, who was sixteen feet from getting to her piece, and who had just fastened her pace as she heard his comment sickly adorned with his laugh.

_Growl._

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind and they would all burn in hell for it.

***********

Chandeliers weren't common in such a tiny town. Just on their own house, but they barely received guests. This one had two grand black crystal chandeliers—too cheap to be onyx; one on the entrance, another on the living room. Rosalie had to smile knowingly; it made her remember her own family back when she was human. All appearances. They would also throw gatherings like this one—all elegant dresses, fancy champagne, and fake laughs—just to seek for a husband, seek for an enemy, seek for acquaintance, seek _something_. Of course, only Edward knew what they really wanted. His power was irritating.

His stare met hers, but she concentrated on watching her surroundings closely, gripping Emmett's hand tighter.

_Something changed._

It took him a moment to realize it was Alice on his mind, even if her voice wasn't a stranger or directed to him. She was thinking to herself, a thing most people did. He just happened to be condemned to hear those mumblings; he didn't complain, though, because his father was in danger, as were them. On times like this, he remembers why he has always searched for the truth.

Edward nodded in a way that only Alice would understand as he caught her eye, but that could have easily been passed as an acknowledge gesture to Sandra Murray and her fifteen year old daughter Gina, who were standing in front of them, greeting them—almost intimidated. Bella was especially uncomfortable by the latter, and as soon as he registered her doubts, he snaked his arm on her waist almost unnoticeably. She appreciated the gesture, but it did not ease her worries. Only Jasper truly knew; to him it was painfully obvious.

Alice understood, and she almost groaned at his intromission. She couldn't complain for the same reasons either.

"Esme! I'm so glad you could come. And you brought your beautiful children with you." She smiled to each one of them with mixed feelings, showing two rows of perfectly white teeth, those humans achieved by visiting the dentist every month, or actually being the dentist. Gina's stare was fixated on Edward, but he looked away. Her thoughts were disturbing.

_There's blood. A lot of it. Even the vision was tinted with burgundy colors…_

Rosalie got suspicious when Edward blinked, but she decided to ignore the exchange. She was always left out of them anyway, so she wouldn't ask for answers when he wasn't going to give them to her. She had her pride. The mind reader watched her ask for a drink to the girl, 'her perfect blonde curls shining perfectly and bouncing lightly the same way', and drift away, excusing herself with a beautiful smile. Suddenly, Emmett felt out of place.

"Carlisle is so sorry that he couldn't make it, Sandra." Esme said, kissing both of her cheeks.

_Geez, you never let me explain! Carlisle is just fine. I'm just explaining what you probably already saw._

"Where is that husband of yours now, anyway? He's seems like such the traveler." Esme smiled warmly, almost forgivingly at the double innuendo. He had to swallow a scowl to pay attention to Alice.

_There will be a delay on his plane tickets, though._

"Italy. Doing some errands. He will hopefully be back soon and apologize properly to you and to Bob."

Bella took Edward's hand, but she didn't bother to make her shield a little as a head pin to talk to him. With Bella, things were straight, yet subtle.

"Is something wrong?" She whispered on a small, fragile voice. Alice just watched them as her tiny hand left Jasper's.

"I would tell you." Edward told her, caressing her cold hand with his thumb, the earnest of expressions lightening his dark features.

Rosalie snorted almost twenty feet away. Edward did not bother to show her any kind of acknowledge. Jasper excused himself, kissing the back of his wife's hand.

"Italy, huh? Job errands?" Sandra Murray's eyebrows shot up suggestively, secretly envious that her husband couldn't take her to a place like that. Okay, maybe not so secretly, as a bitter expression invaded her icy smile after taking a zip of the glass of champagne she had on her hands. Her eyes met Edward's for the fleetest of seconds.

"Family matters actually: his uncle succeeding as an artist." Esme did not like to brag, even if it was just a lie.

_And he did not bring her? Sounds more like a lovers errand to me. Maybe he got tired of her…no wonder. She seems so motherly, yet she can't give him kids… _A look of pity strongly contrasted with the one she wore before. _The perfect family, not so perfect after all…_

Edward had heard things like this more than once, the human mind moved by an uncontrollable envy, but when it was directed towards his mother, it particularly annoyed him.

…_maybe he went to that abortion clinic I read about to dump the love child. Moral support? Must be. He seems like the protective type…_

His composure was starting to give in, the scowl at the tip of his tongue.

_Wonder why he didn't do me…_

It was Renesmee who interrupted in a manner that resembled that one of a perfectly normal child.

"May I ask where is the bathroom?"

_Bullshit is intoxicating. _Rosalie.

"Sure, dear. Gina will be here shortly…" Sandra started to explain.

"I _really _need to go." She widened her eyes in a way that expressed how urgent was her need, doing little and embarrassing jumps. "Now." She mouthed. Bella stared at her unsure of what to do, but she said nothing, for she didn't know what to do. She was too young to be a mother, anyway.

"_Oh_…okay." _What a petulant child._

He just smiled forcefully while Sandra excused herself and lead Renesmee upstairs to show the Cullens how expensive their ceramic jacuzzi was.

"Well, that was interesting." Emmett faked a yawn.

*********

"Let me see the harm."

She was nothing as her blood blended in with her salty tears. Her misery would cost him his own.

Carlisle couldn't even begin to understand how such cruelty could be achieved, how members of the coven were willing to commit such atrocity to get even, but he knew why. He just wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it in no given circumstance—not even to them, the ones threatening his family, the ones to blame for him to witness such inhumanity.

Humanity; the epitome of everything he tried to be.

_Liar, liar, pants on fire…_

Shut up, shut up.

He knew his thirst was dangerous when it started getting a voice.

She refused to open her mouth, perhaps ashamed. Ashamed of what? He wasn't exactly sure. He hadn't known the human very well before taking the decision so recklessly (a thought that struck him now, and that he can't seem to forget or forgive), but he knew every living creature had a soul and had a body, and he had broken both.

Amelie was trembling uncontrollably, her body in an odd angle. That's when he understood that cutting one of her organs wasn't the only thing he had done; her bones had suffered too. Always on his nature, his hands made the motion of touching her, but they stopped halfway. He did not deserve it.

"It grows back. The venom should heal it. And this all will be over soon." He didn't expect her to stop trembling; he didn't expect convincing himself of what he said either. She was something sacred broken to pieces all by himself. He had to look away.

Chelsea was there, but she was having as much trouble as he was for entirely different reasons. Her thirst was a problem too.

His eyes were closed, his hands brought together at the palm. He did something he hadn't done in a while, not for lack of faith, but for lack of something to ask for. He prayed.

Chelsea's smile as she heard him was quite disturbing.

"I don't care how much I've said this, but an eternity won't be enough for me to apologize properly for the great damage I have caused this innocent soul. I'm not even sure if I deserve forgiveness. I won't ask for that; it would be a treacherous thought, and I try to stay away from…_this_…but…you know-you know I can't.

He sobbed.

"You know _this _won't let me. I hope you have a purpose for me inflicting this magnitude of pain to someone I knew I could hurt in so many ways, because if not, I did an utter absurdity, the most condemnable of sins by changing her…"

Her eyes were not open all the way through, but Chelsea could tell she was listening to him between the numbing pains. Her eyelids slightly open, the image bizarre as her eyes were flat black almost on their entirety.

_Blood. Blood. Blood. So much._

He wasn't praying out loud anymore, but he was silent. So much things he couldn't say in front of her. Her smile only grew bigger.

Felix would be the hurt one in all of this. She would make sure she would enjoy it.

* * *

_I cannot believe this chapter is done. So much lack of focus to end up that last part, and it turned out completely different than what I had intended. _

_Next chapter won't be up on the time I have done the ones already posted. It might take a full month for me to end all the stupid school work I have to do, to get my drafts straight (and they are scattered on five different files), and to post Chapter Nine—and I have to_ actually _write it. I'll do something nice, though._

_**Review**__ if you like. I would love to hear your thoughts._

_**Review=Preview**_

-Mia.

**PS: **_15 pages. New Record_.


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